The Third Wheel
by Destiny's Darkness
Summary: When the Winchester brothers are faced with a spirit who is tormenting a normal girl and smart enough to avoid them, they're forced to take her with them until they can find a solution to her predicament. Eventual DeanxOFC.
1. Chapter 1 : Meet Charlie

**The Third Wheel**  
by Destiny's Darkness

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Disclaimer: If you think I own anything, you're in for a laugh. One of those belly-aching ones. Where you can't get up from the floor.

Author's Note: I was really hoping to read a story like this, but when I wasn't able to find one, I decided to write it myself. It starts somewhere around the middle of the first season, and will be mostly following the story line, with the exception of the obvious change. Enjoy, let me know what you think, yadda yadda yadda. I don't mind flames, but I'd prefer that they provide some sort of constructive criticism. Make me better!

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**Chapter One : Meet Charlie**

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It should have been an easy job. Stake out the place, wait for the spirit to show, run in guns blazing to save the girl. They'd been lead to her here in Chicago by the newspaper article, "Lady No Luck", chronicling the numerous unpleasant experiences she'd gone through, starting with the deaths of her parents and brother in a suspicious car accident four years before.

Sam thought the expose was the epitome of bad taste, bordering on cruelty to the already suffering girl, but he was still forced to admit that it had drawn their attention, the first possible step to helping her. She had been through too many apartment fires, near freak accidents, and close calls to not be of supernatural interest. They just had to figure out what the blasted thing was. They'd considered a trickster first, but no one they knew had ever heard of one fixating on a single person for such a long period of time. Dean had mentioned a German Kobold, but the incidents were really beyond the usual severity of the mischievous sprites, not to mention that they usually didn't follow their targets from one home to another. The next idea was the black dog of the Hanging Hills, which fit the profile fairly well, except they never found any record that she'd ever been to Conneticut, much less enough to see the black dog twice. Hobgoblins also came up in discussion and were dropped quickly when they couldn't find any signs of the creatures, which were fairly obvious to anyone who knew what they were looking for.

They'd run out of time to figure it out before the night they knew for a fact that it would show. Dean had surprised Sam when he realized the one time activity had always been recorded was the Ides of every other month. This month. So they'd laid in wait, prepared to move the instant they noticed anything supernatural or threatening. Waited...

Waited...

The sun had nearly come up, making it the day after they expected, when they saw the girl frantically burst out of her apartment building. Without thinking, without speaking, they flew out of the car -- Sam racing to catch her while Dean grabbed the door before it closed and headed up to the second floor where she lived.

The front door to the apartment was still standing open when he reached it. Dean took half a second to check the rock salt cartridges in the shot gun and silver blade at his hip, then slipped inside, checking cautiously for whatever distressed her. It didn't take long to find. Something had marked up the wall, as though it had taken a blade to the paint, carving out her name over and over. It was still carving when he entered, but by the time he'd taken in the sight and raised the shotgun to aim, it stopped -- mid letter -- and its presence was gone.

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Sam had marginally better luck. Chasing after her as she darted down the street and away from her home, he called after her, hollering for her to stop. When she reached the corner, it seemed to sink in that the person yelling was yelling for her. She turned and waited for him to catch up, bracing her hands on her knees as she worked to get back her breath.

"Are you okay? What's wrong?"

The questions seemed to throw her for a loop, though he couldn't tell if she was simply surprised to hear them asked or, more likely, unable to find the words to answer.

The hunter took pity on her, reaching for an easier topic. "You're Charlene Palmer, right?"

Her blue eyes went immediately wary, studying his wrinkled and slept in clothing before giving a slow nod.

"Charlene, my name is Sam. I'm here to help you."

She scoffed. "Help how? Another exclusive on how I'm a danger to everyone around me?"

"No, not at all. You're not the danger, but something else is. I want to help you get rid of it." He waited for the disbelief and sarcasm that inevitably came next, but the blonde just maintained her study of him and waited for him to continue talking. "Look, you probably don't want to have this conversation on the street in your pajamas." He got his first glimpse of humor in her face. "Why don't we head back to your apartment and take care of this?"

She hesitated, just long enough that he knew whatever happened had thoroughly unnerved her, but took a visible grasp of her will and followed him back.

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When they got back upstairs, they found the door still open and Dean carefully examining the scratchings. He faced them at their entrance.

"Charlene? This is my brother Dean. He's gonna help you too."

She seemed to snap out of her silent state at Sam's voice. Making a face, she waved a hand in protest and told them, "Call me Charlie. Everyone does."

Sam smiled in response, while Dean grinned and obviously checked her out, causing his brother to do the same. Charlie certainly wasn't Dean's type, wasn't one of those gorgeous, glamorous types whose every sound and motion promised dark, illicit, guilt-free fun. She was cute enough, sure, short and in shape with waist-length blonde hair that obviously hadn't been brushed before her flight out of the building. Rather than the lacy lingerie they were used to seeing on female.. friends, she wore a mismatched, slightly oversized pajama set with cartoon characters insulting each other. Not Dean's type at all. Still, Sam cast a quick look at the man beside him, relieve not to find him pouring on the charm.

"So, Charlie," he was saying with a brief nod toward the vandalized wall, "tell us what happened."

She made a face, moving over to an armchair and dropping in, tucking her legs underneath herself and gesturing for them to take seats of their own. "I don't... it was..." she started, expression focused in as she tried to find the right words. "My tv woke me up. I mean, I thought it was my tv. I have this bad habit of watching movies really late, getting tired, and going to bed without shutting everything... anything... down, so it happens. It was blaring, and while my neighbors like me, no one appreciates that kind of wake-up call, so I came in here. You know, it never even occurred to me that it couldn't have been going off the whole night, that it must have been turned on." She shook her head at herself. "Anyway, I come in, and it's still blaring, but the tv's off. So's the stereo, the radio, everything. Just as I realized _that_, it went silent."

"The noise shut off?" Sam asked, trying to clarify.

"All noise shut off. I mean, no birds, no electrical noises. Like I'd gone deaf, only to the hear the start of some sort of scratching. I turned around and saw that starting up." She pointed to the carved names, then let out a quiet laugh. "I was already upset by my tv blaring without being on, and that was so the last straw. I was _gone_."

"You know it's not just 'Charlene' up there, right?" Dean asked abruptly.

"Yeah, I know. I managed to make it for a couple seconds, but when I saw the other names showing up, that's when I freaked." She explained, "They're all old nicknames. My friends in high school and I had this, well, weird game where we'd call each other by false names in public. Some of them sorta stuck. Jamie, Sarabeth, Krissa. Different names for different reasons."

"Seeing names no one had called me for years would freak me out, too," Sam admitted.

"Especially when there's no reason for anyone to know them anymore? Yeah."

The brothers looked at each other, seeing from her expression that story time was over and it was time for them to do some explaining. Just how much to tell her, and what, was the question. As usual, Dean took the lead. "Charlie, this is going to sound crazy, but what did that this morning isn't human."

True to his word, she looked at him like he was certifiably insane. "Um, you think?"

The meaning of the words and the attitude behind them threw Dean for a loop. "What?"

"I'm guessing that you've read that little article about me, about how I'm cursed. Do you honestly think I could deal with all of that crap and craziness and not realize that something unexplainable was going on? I mean, do you know many invisible vandals?"

They looked at each other, Sam with surprise, Dean with wry amusement.

She sighed. "So what is it?"

"We don't know," Dean admitted. "But we're going to find out. Now we know that it likes just you. It fled the moment I came in the room."

She narrowed her eyes. "It's never done that before. Stop just because someone came in." She looked between them, back and forth. "What does that mean?"

Sam shook his head, turning back to his brother. "It's changing its pattern."

"It's been escalating," Charlie informed them. "That article didn't make that very clear, but it's been escalating. First it was doing little things that were annoying, then they started getting worse. Stuff to startle me, then stuff to scare me. The last couple incidents, someone could have gotten hurt."

"Someone meaning you?"

"Someone meaning that the time before this, I was in a full subway car when the 'unbreakable' window behind me exploded in on us."

Sam began drumming his fingers on the coffee table, clearly disturbed by her confession. In response, Dean leaned forward, "Do you have anything to drink?"

"Some bottled water," she replied, faltering from the sudden change in topic, "Cokes, some fresh sweet tea."

"Tea would be great," the boys requested simultaneously.

She rose and walked across the apartment to the little kitchenette. Dean allowed himself a self-congratulatory smirk at having correctly judged her to be a good southern girl when she pulled out large glasses and started filling them with ice, giving them a moment to talk.

"Dean, it's getting violent. It's done playing games."

"I know." The older brother leaned back against his seat. "So we need to stop it. Now."

"What if it doesn't come back right away? According to the article, there's been months between some incidents."

"And other times it's only been a matter of hours, which means we have no idea when it'll strike next." Dean swore silently. "We can't stay here, doing nothing for months on end until this thing decides to go another round."

Sam agreed. "So what do we do?"

"I don't know, man. I don't think she really knows anything that could help us identify it, which means we don't have any way to summon it and force it back here." He hushed, leaning forward to take his glass as she returned with the iced tea.

"So what's the verdict?" She asked as she curled back up in her chair.

Dean grimaced. "How tied down are you to this place?" He cast a semi-apologetic glance at his brother, who shrugged in acknowledgement that they didn't really have any other choice.

"Tied down? Why?"

"How do you feel about a road trip?"

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Destiny's Darkness  
1-27-2009


	2. Chapter 2 : Taking to the Road

**The Third Wheel**  
by Destiny's Darkness

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Disclaimer: I own nothing. Ain't it sad?

Author's Note: The beginning of this chapter is mainly from Charlie's perspective (which I'm planning to not make a habit of) because I thought it would be more appropriate to get inside her head when she's making such a life-changing move. I know a lot of people dislike it when an original character takes the spotlight (I'm one of them), but this story deals with how both parties would react to the situation. Hope you can find a way to forgive.

Also, I'm not really leaning toward any sort of romance right now, certainly not in the beginning, even if it might seem that way. I just find the boys to be really protective of the people they help and wanted to avoid making them out of character. Plus I think it's cute.

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**Chapter Two : Taking to the Road**

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_"So what's the verdict?" She asked as she curled back up in her chair. _

_Dean grimaced. "How tied down are you to this place?" He cast a semi-apologetic glance at his brother, who shrugged in acknowledgement that they didn't really have any other choice._

_"Tied down? Why?" _

_"How do you feel about a road trip?"_

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Charlie Palmer looked over each brother again, for what felt like the millionth time since she'd met them, trying to get a bead on what exactly they weren't telling her. "I'm fairly neutral on the idea of a road trip. Maybe you could explain exactly what this would entail?"

It seemed to be Sam's turn to take lead on the conversation, she suspected because he was better than his in-your-face brother at convincing people to do something they didn't want to do. "The reason we're here, Charlie, is because this is kind of our job."

Dean interrupted. "Not that we don't care about what happens to you; this is just the kind of thing that we deal with on a regular basis."

"Right," Sam continued. "The thing is, we don't know exactly when this thing is going to come after you again. Judging from what we've read, there's no real pattern to the amount of time between visits. We can't leave you here, knowing that we haven't done anything to help you and that it could come back and do more serious damage."

"But there's other people out there who need your help. You can't just hang out here waiting for something to happen while other people could be in trouble." She figured that was what they were trying to say, even if Sam was going to take another twenty or thirty minutes getting to the point, and judged that she was right on the money from Dean's expression. "So what, you want me to just travel around for a while, until you get more information or it starts up again, then meet back up?"

Sam looked stunned at that conclusion, probably mostly because of how matter of fact she stated it. "No. We want you to come with us."

"Well, _want.._" Dean started jokingly, silenced by his brother's elbow sinking into his ribcage. "The truth is that it's probably safest for you if you're around people who have some sort of experience with the paranormal."

She froze, stunned by the sort-of invitation. Now that she was finally getting a chance to focus on something other than a nasty something targeting her and the explanation she was going to have to give her landlord to get that wall fixed, she was becoming acutely aware of just how attractive the men in front of her really were. To have them offering to take her with them, these men that probably belonged in underwear ads instead of dealing with ghosts, offering to protect her from the thing that threatened her was difficult to absorb. Questions bounced around in her head, and she voiced them, hoping to give herself a minute to recover.

"Where would we being going?"

They both shrugged, emphasizing their blood relation, and Sam answered. "We were looking at heading southeast, through Texas. We don't have any sort of home base to speak of; we mostly keep on the road. Staying in hotels and the like."

"How can you afford to do that? Do you get paid for this or something?"

His brother winced. "We have some moneymaking methods of the more... not legal variety. This job actually doesn't pay well at all."

"But, would you be okay with me tagging along? I sold my car when I lived in Albuquerque, so I don't have any sort of-"

"You'd drive with us in my Impala. The back seat's nice and spacious," judging from his expression he knew this from personal experience and had fond memories, "and we can handle your stuff as long as you don't bring five suitcases."

Sam took over. "Look, Charlie, this is going to be a sacrifice for you, we get it, and you'd be dealing with a lot of strange and probably dangerous things--"

"Or I can stay here by myself and wait for whatever this is to get bored with playing with me," she interrupted, longing to agree but not quite comfortable with the idea. She took a breath. "I really don't want to get in your way or make you feel obligated to invite me. You don't have to take me with you."

"Sure we do," was Dean's response, his hand clapping solidly on her shoulder. "Sammy here's been going nuts without someone less manly than him around." The comment was rewarded with a glare from the offended party.

Charlie bit her bottom lip, struggling with the decision, not that there was much of one, not for anyone sane. "If you're sure, sure that you don't mind, I'd like to tag along."

The younger Winchester's voice was complete comfort. "We want you to come."

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"I don't have much stuff, really, but there's some things I'd like to put in storage. You know, for some later date."

Sam shrugged, standing next to her in her bedroom doorway as together they looked over her meager possessions. "You probably won't have to. You're renting this place furnished, right?"

"Yeah, well, I've got a lot of books and the like that I don't need to take with me." She showed him her pride and joy, the walk-in closet she'd converted into a small library. "This is actually only about half of them; the rest are already in a storage unit downtown. We can just drop them off and I'll pay the rental fee for a few months in advance."

He smiled--god, what a smile-- at her enthusiasm. "Sounds like a plan. Let's get started, shall we?"

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It took a surprisingly short time to get all of Charlie's belongings sorted between what was staying and what was going and packed into boxes retrieved from the liquor store down the street. She limited her clothes and toiletries, anything that could stay in the trunk while on the move, to one midsized duffel bag and one smaller one. She was surprised, however, when they admitted that they didn't keep much with them up front for during those long drives. Still she loaded another bag with her laptop, a few books, and a few other things to keep her occupied while she was trying her best to stay out of their way, plus a surprise she believed both brothers would appreciate.

Even less time had passed before she given an apologetic goodbye to her landlord, along with a check to cover the expense of fixing her wall and breaking her lease early, before they'd dropped off her remaining things at the storage unit, before they'd left Chicago behind.

Sam felt a little impressed at how well she was handling the three hours they'd been driving so far, even having heard her claims of long trips with her family before they died. She'd stretched out in the back, a pillow behind her back and a blanket on her lap, listening to music on her MP3 player and reading some book that had Dean shaking his head and muttering about chic books when he originally saw the cover. She just smiled, maybe blushed a little bit, and told him not to judge them until he'd read one for himself. The mental image of Dean engrossed in a book that pictured a man and woman passionately embracing on the front cover kept Sam chuckling for nearly forty-five minutes until Dean hit him on the back of the head and promised to give him something really funny to laugh at.

Charlie seemed sort of shy, in his opinion, watching them from the back seat when she thought they wouldn't noticed as if she was trying to figure them out. Learn what made them tick. He was relieved to find that having her in the car wasn't as awkward or uncomfortable as it could have been, maybe a little bit strange but nothing that wouldn't go away after they all got used to each other. Still they all were on their best behavior with each other, which made conversation a little bit difficult.

When Dean caught himself avoiding his usual sex jokes and mildly crude language, he couldn't help but ask, "Hey, Charlie, just how old are you?"

She looked amused, as though she'd been waiting for that question or it was one she heard often, but she answered with no hesitation. "Twenty-two." She couldn't stop the giggle from escaping when she say the embarrassed surprise in both of their faces.

Dean didn't quite believe her at first, not deep in his gut. There was something about her appearance and behavior that just made her seem younger, more around her mid-teens, something that urged him to keep her safe the same way that he kept Sammy safe. His lips quirked at the thought, vaguely wondering if he was going to end up the big brother that threatened away all the little boyfriends. Not a role he ever imagined himself in before this arrangement. In fact, he used to be one of those boyfriends a smart brother would threaten away. The change in roles amused him for a good while as they continued down the road.

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A few hours later, Dean turned the Impala into the parking lot of a motel that looked like it could have been rundown during the seventies. He waggled his eyebrows in a manner that he _knew _was sexy at Charlie's dubious expression and let out a full on laugh when she rolled her eyes. "You coming?"

The blonde leaned over to take a good look at the manager's office before meeting his eyes again. "I think I'm going to stay here." She took another look. "With the doors locked."

"Sure," he responded nonchalantly, "if you want to stay here alone."

He grinned when he heard her mutter something under her breath, something that sounded suspiciously like cursing. But she opened the door and slipped out of the Impala nonetheless, almost sticking close to Sam's back as they moved as a group across the pavement and into the building. "Are you sure that this place is up to code?" she whispered.

Sam considered the question, casting a quick look around the place. "I'm almost certain that it's not."

"Come on, you pussies. You've gotta take a little risk in life."

Dean ignored Charlie's pointed glance and rang the bell. They waited for a few moments, expecting some sort of response, before Dean rang it again. Somewhat impatiently, judging from the way he hit it over and over again. When the desk clerk finally appeared in the doorway, he looked pretty pissed.

"We need two rooms, a single and a double." Sam waved off her protests, as the man entered them into the system and created a keycard for each of them. Dean gave him a hard time about the amenities, just making him more and more aggravated.

"I could at least pay for my own room," Charlie insisted, tugging at his sleeve somewhat playfully. "I'm trying not to be a nuisance, remember?"

"Don't worry about it," he told her clearly, making sure to time it to speak just as the clerk was telling 'Mr. Dojinsky' what his final total would be. He didn't, however, manage to keep her from overhearing his brother ask if that price included the happy ending.

She cocked an eyebrow and slipped between the desk and the moron just as the exasperated clerk opened his mouth, obviously having reached the end of his rope. Dean grabbed her by the elbow to pull her back behind him -- this man looked moderately violent and extremely short-tempered, a fact that he'd ignored deliberately while needling him. But the short blonde resisted the tugs and smiled apologetically at the thug in front of her.

"I'm sorry to be a bother, but is there any way we could get an extra key for each of the rooms?" Just like she planned, all three males looked confused at the question and distracted from the earlier aggression. The clerk, Adam according to his name tag, looked at the three keycards in his hand blankly. She explained, "My brother's are giving me a night away from them," she put a hand on Dean's wrist to indicate that he was one of those brothers, "but I kind of have a knack for getting myself into stupid little situations." Adam grinned back in response to her bashful smile. "I'd just sleep better if I knew we weren't separated by locked doors, you know?"

Adam chuckled, nodding good-naturedly. "I think I can do that for you." He reached out as if to chuff her under her chin, but Dean must have made some sort of threatening notion causing him to halt. Then instead of getting angry like the brothers anticipated, his expression softened even more.

Quickly making the two extra keys, he handed them over with a quiet comment to Dean. They walked out together, Charlie chattering as if nothing unusual had occurred while Dean tried to figure out why Adam told him he would be knocking fifty dollars off their bill. The trio made it back to the Impala before Sam's curiosity finally got the better of him.

"Okay, what just happened?"

She shrugged, going to the back seat to grab her bag. "I just distracted him enough that he didn't mess up Dean's face."

Sam grinned while Dean tried to defend himself. "He would have gotten one shot in, two tops."

"Yeah, well, we're the ones who have to look at you." She hoisted her other duffel onto her shoulder and admitted, "There was a picture of him with a younger sister on the desk. I figured he might show a little leniency toward another big brother."

Sam thought for a moment. "Someone who can keep Dean out of trouble. You know, I'm kind of glad you're stuck with us."

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Destiny's Darkness  
1/28/2009


	3. Chapter 3 : Hurry Up and Save Me

**The Third Wheel**

by Destiny's Darkness

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Disclaimer: I'm saddened to announce that the brilliance that is Supernatural is not mine. I claim no credit and can only hope that I don't defile it too much. Charlie Palmer's mine, but if you want to use her in something (anything) just let me know so I can see what kind of trouble she gets herself into.

Author's Note: I'm so incredibly stunned and flattered by the positive feedback I've gotten so far. It's been a long while since I've written anything outside of NaNoWriMo, and I was fairly nervous that my writing might have deteriorated as a result. All of these reviews have been so reassuring.

I'm glad people seem to like Charlie. I felt that someone who'd been through so much would be a little less self-assure than most as a result of the constant upheaval it caused, which bears the possibility of becoming a doormat, which I know could be annoying. I'm also really grateful to the folks that pointed out how strange it was for a younger woman to so willingly leave her home and go off with two strange guys at the drop of the hat. I hope I explain that satisfactorily in this chapter.

On an interesting note: I was trying to figure out the best place to enter the canon storyline, hoping I could work it out so that the first hunt could work out to be from the episode "Hell House" in season 1, but still have them go through Chicago to pick up Charlie. Lucky me -- the episode before, "Shadow", was based in the Windy City itself.

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**Chapter Three :** Hurry Up and Save Me

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_Previously: Sam thought for a moment. "Someone who can keep Dean out of trouble. You know, I'm kind of glad you're stuck with us."_

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Sam and Charlie stared, opened-mouthed in Charlie's case, at the single she would be staying in that night. "Um, Dean," she asked uncomfortably, unable to even turn away from the sight to face the man as he was walking out of the next room, "you're not paying for this place by the hour, are you?"

It was beyond a doubt the sleaziest room the girl had ever seen. A box of condoms sat on the night table next to a lamp whose shade was covered by a flimsy piece of cloth. The paper advertising discounted pay- per-view reflected in the mirror mounted over the bed. There were three travel-sized bottles of mouthwash on the counter by the sink.

"Holy hell," Dean exclaimed, "he gave you a nookie room!"

Sam had simply been struck speechless.

"I'm not sleeping on that bed."

Dean flashed a grin. "Want to see if we can get him to change the sheets?"

"I'm not sure I want to even step on that carpet, either." She stared a moment longer. "Yeah, there's not a chance. I'm sleeping in the car."

"You can't stay the night in the car," Sam argued, finally regaining his abilities of speech. "You can take my bed."

Blue eyes lit up with amusement. "You don't have to prove to me that chivalry isn't dead, Sam. I got the idea when you willingly took on the burden of dragging me around with you. But I'm certainly not stealing your bed." She looked at him for a moment, but studied Dean longer. "Either of you sleep in the nude?"

They settled the matter by agreeing that she would sleep on the floor between the beds and return the keys to the extra room back to the desk clerk. He had turned a nearly florescent red when he realized just which room he'd given her, but she just laughed if off the reasoning that is was just a sign not wander to far from her "brothers". With the extra blankets and pillows he gave her, she made a cozy little nest on the floor and declared it perfect.

Dean was surprisingly courteous, excusing himself and his brother to go find a restaurant for breakfast the next morning while she showered and prepared for sleep. He figured that sharing a room with two strangers was awkward enough without having them in the next room while she was naked. But when they came back twenty minutes later, the shower was silent and the room empty. Dean immediately turned back to see if she'd gone out to the Impala, but Sam's eyes were drawn to the shut bathroom door.

"Charlie? Is everything all right?"

He heard a faint laugh coming from behind the wood door, but as though she was on the floor. "Define all right."

The older Winchester returned just in time to hear Sam ask, "What's wrong?"

There was another laugh, this one a little more resigned than the first. "The door's stuck."

"You're kidding me," Dean drawled out, looking frustrated. He instinctively reached for the door knob, but the metal was immobile, as if it had solidified. He pressed his shoulder to the door, preparing to bust it down before he had a second thought. "Shit. Charlie, how big is that bathroom?"

"Ungodly tiny. Why?"

"I don't have anywhere to bust down the door."

"...what?"

He grinned. "I have to bust down the door, but there's nowhere for the door to go when I do." Sam looked at him, exchanging one of those looks that told each other what to do faster than they could with words.

"I... I can stand back in the bathtub." There was a scuffling sound and then, "Okay."

Simultaneously the brothers braced themselves and kicked out, striking the door milliseconds apart. It held, but cracks appeared up and down its length with an explosive bang. Sam barely registered the startled squeak from the girl trapped inside before they kicked again. This time the door shattered, and the instant it did, Dean swept inside, his eyes sweeping from side to side. He reached behind the curtain where Charlie was standing, holding her to his side protectively and taking another look at the bathroom. "Sammy, get in here!"

When his brother stood next to him, making the tiny bathroom even more crowded, he could tell they saw the same thing. Following their gaze, Charlie saw it too: _can't run can't hide,_ scrawled across the top of the door. She made a quiet, involuntary whimper and started to turn to burrow into Dean's shoulder, steeling herself just as her face pressed against him. He felt her muscles tense, felt the slight shaking that overcame her when she saw the love note, and was moderately impressed by the way she pulled herself straight and walked back into the main room.

He was impressed enough that he managed to keep himself from overly ogling her figure in that skimpy hotel towel. Sam noticed anyway, and when Charlie gave them the thankful go-ahead to come back in, he was rubbing the bruise forming on his shoulder.

"So, this thing's a jerk," Sam announced. "What kind of ... thing makes a door knob stick like that?"

"Melt," she corrected. "I could smell it when I got out of the shower. Plus this isn't actually a new trick."

"Think it's running out of nasty ideas?"

Dean fielded that one. "No, it's just making sure that we know it's the same entity." He looked to the wet blonde combing out her hair. "You all right?"

She made a face. "Yeah. Last time it fused together the parts of my apartment front door, back in Boston. I think it wanted me feeling more vulnerable now." She shrugged. "Didn't work as well as it could have. I knew you two were coming back."

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Lying in their beds that night, Sam and Dean were in perfect agreement. They were going to find this thing and they were going to take it down.

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Charlie amused herself the next morning by keeping a mental note of just how much the brothers devoured, while she downed her significantly smaller breakfast.

"So, kid," Dean started, not bothering to finish what he was chewing first, "gotta ask: why'd you leave your apartment so easily?"

She smiled. "Something evil messed up my walls."

Sam argued, "Yeah, but it was still your home. You had to feel something about leaving it."

"A little sad, I guess. But I've moved around a lot since the accident. You know, San Francisco, Denver, Albuquerque, New York, Boston, Charleston, Atlanta, and then Chicago. Anytime things started to get weird, I'd pick up and go. Head to the next city that sounded interesting. Sure I'd been living in that apartment for a while, but I've learned not to form attachments if I can help it." She paused as Dean flagged down their waitress for another order of hash browns. "Then you two showed up."

The younger brother leaned forward in interest. "About that. Why did you trust us? You agreed to leave with us after we had just met."

"You'd been asking about me." They were both startled by the admission. "A couple folks you talked to called me afterwards to let me know, one or two looking for more gossip and the rest just wanting to make sure that I knew."

Sam frowned. "We told most of them we were asking because of an ongoing investigation."

"I know, but you may have noticed that I'm practically a poster child for innocent and non-threatening looking. My boss Max actually called because he thought you were trying to frame me for -- oh my god, my job!" She started scrambling for her phone in her purse. "I never told them I was leaving!"

As she fled the restaurant for some relative privacy, Sam and Dean knew to take the opportunity to lay out their plans. "She's right, you know, Dean. She doesn't seem the type to break the law, and a lot of what we do is illegal. We can't hide that from her for long."

"So we tell her."

"Do you really think she'd be okay with that?"

Dean shrugged. "Probably not. But I don't know what other options we really have."

They sat in quiet for a minute, eating their breakfasts and contemplating the decision. Sam looked up, "We could call Dad. Maybe he would know -- "

"No," Dean interrupted, grimacing, "Dad probably doesn't need to hear about this latest development. I'm pretty sure he wouldn't approve, to say the least." He got a reluctant nod in response. "We'll just have to tell her and hope for the best."

Sam watched as Charlie hung up and made her way back to their table. "How'd they take the news?" he asked her.

"They're disappointed, but they'd already given me some time off already because of the article, so they're already set up to cover for me." She reached over and grabbed a forkful of the fresh hash browns off Dean's plate. "I told them some long-lost cousins were taking me on a trip to get my mind off things." The trio shared a smile.

"Everyone finished up?" Dean asked, pushing plate away. "Cuz I'm thinking about ten minutes and we're on the road."

Sam stood. "On to Texas."

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Post Author's Note: I'm kind of surprised at how quickly I'm getting these chapters out, thought they're about a thousand words shorter than I usually aim for. Hope they're still worth the read.

Destiny's Darkness

1/30/2009


	4. Chapter 4 : Hunting Hell House

**The Third Wheel**

by Destiny's Darkness

* * *

**Disclaimer**: I can claim among my possessions my cat, my laptop, and my car. The rights to Supernatural are not listed with said possessions.

**Author's Note**: This is a chapter I would particularly like some feedback on. I tried to stay close to the actual episode (oddly more difficult than I expected it to be) and am curious as to how it turned out. I also made a point of trying to keep Charlie in that state of mind where she's yet to feel like 'part of the team'. She _will_ become more buddy/buddy with them, but I'm trying to keep the relationship development natural. Would also love to see some reactions to how that went.

Also, I wanted to give a heads up that I _am_ on Twitter. I post about a lot of things (really anything that comes to mind), but I'm getting into the habit of updating the status of the current chapter. It's also a place I post questions ('What should happen here?' for example) that I don't currently expect answers to, but it would be a great way for folks to impact the story. There's a link to my account on my profile page.

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**Chapter 4 : Hunting Hell House**

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_Previously:_

_"Everyone finished up?" Dean asked, pushing his plate away. "Cuz I'm thinking about ten minutes and we're on the road."_

_Sam stood. "On to Texas."_

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_Several hours outside Richardson, TX..._

Dean was bored, a dangerous situation under the best of circumstances. Sam was passed out in the seat next to him, just as he had been for the last two hours. In the back, Charlie was burrowed under her blankets and into her book with the headphones on her ears playing up-tempo music loud enough that he could hear it if he tried. He turned his own music up, then down, then up again, unable to decide which volume suited his mood better.

Absently, he glanced over to check on his brother yet again, but this time his open mouth and a spoon from their fast food stop the day before caught his attention, causing a double-take. Unable to resist that older brother instinct, he grabbed the plastic utensil and reached out, attempting to place it between Sam's open pearly whites so that it stayed without waking him in the process. He smirked at his success, pulled out his phone, and snapped a picture for posterity. When the thought struck him that the spoon might fall out before Sam woke, he spun the volume control on the radio to blaring and began singing along, slapping the steering wheel to the beat.

Sam jerked alert, haphazardly slapping at whatever was sticking out of his mouth. On realizing he was now the proud owner of the same plastic spoon he hadn't needed yesterday, he turned to his brother, who was grinning moronically.

It was the sudden movement and ensuing conversation that drew Charlie out of her own little world. She watched the boys to the accompaniment of her own music for a few moments before curiosity got the better of her and she slid the headphones off.

"-little Nair in your shampoo again? Huh?"

Sam glared, obvious enough that she could tell even sitting behind him. "All right. Just remember you started it."

"Oh-ho. Bring it on, baldy," Dean scoffed.

She may not have known exactly what they were talking about, but she could still tell that it was going to result in either utter hilarity or complete disaster.

The brothers discussed the particulars of their upcoming case, so to speak, Charlie quietly listening from the back, filing it all away. It didn't start as a particularly unusual story. Teens wander into a reputed haunted house. They find a young woman strung up from the ceiling and ran away, likely screaming their heads off. The fact which caught her attention was that the body disappeared by the time the cops showed.

After talking to the kids in question, they had three different versions of the girl who'd been hung and a sob story about a Depression-era farmer who'd hung his six daughters to keep them from starving to death, then was rewarded by being trapped in his house, stringing up any girls who found their way inside.

It was when they arrived at the house in question that the trio had their first real disagreement.

"You're not coming inside with us, Charlie, and that's final."

Charlie's eyes narrowed, fixed on Dean. "That is _not _final. I can help. Another set of eyes, yadda yadda yadda."

"Another set of eyes that have no idea what they're looking for do me no good."

"Well, then, I guess this is a great time to learn."

"There's no need for you to learn! You're not going on hunts with us. Not ever."

"So, what? You're just going to leave me locked up the motel any time you leave? Nothing ever finds its way back there?"

The look in Sam's eyes said otherwise.

"That's not such a bad idea. We can protect a motel room. We can't just set up protection as we go in situations like this."

"Can you protect the Impala, right now? The reason I sold my car was that my nasty little friend disconnected the battery and rigged it up to fry everything."

Dean's face twisted as he struggled not to imagine something similar or even worse happening to his baby, so his brother took over. "Charlie, you'll be at more risk than us going in there. This thing targets young females."

"So give me something sharp."

"You can't stab a ghost."

"Don't be an idiot, Dean. A ghost can't hang you if you've cut the noose."

So far as their previous plans had gone, that wasn't such a terrible plan. "Fine, but you stay right by me. Not wandering off to investigate things on your own."

At her agreement, Sam opened her door for her, then went back to the trunk, digging through the compartment under the false bottom until he found what he was looking for. "Here," he told her, handing over a long, wicked-looking knife and its sheath. "You'll have to work at it, but this will cut through pretty much any rope."

She took it cautiously. "You keep knives in your trunk? Where? I didn't see any when I was moving things around back there."

"Let's hold off Show and Tell until later," the shorter man interrupted.

"You got something?" Sam asked, noting his brother's focused expression.

"Yeah. The EMF's no good." He shot their new partner a look, but she stayed silent.

"Why?"

There was a gesture to an ancient transformer on the power pole next to the house. "I think that thing's still got a little juice. It's screwin' with all the readings."

"Yeah, that'll do it." Sam grimaced, tucking his own EMF detector in his pocket as they moved up the porch to the front door. Taking a quick look around, they pushed the rotting door open and entered, the brothers' flashlights sweeping back and forth across the room. The beams lit up various symbols painted on the walls, catching their attention.

"I guess old man Murdock was a bit of a tagger during his time," Dean half-joked.

"And after his day," Sam agreed.

Charlie couldn't help herself. "What do you mean?" She let out a little gasp and clapped a hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt you."

"That's fine," he told her, still focused on the markings. "You see, the reverse cross was used by Satanists for centuries." He used his flashlight to point at one symbol, then another. "But the Sigil of Sulfur didn't show up in San Francisco until the '60's."

From behind them, Dean scoffed. "This is exactly why you never get laid."

Sam rolled his eyes, but continued walking the perimeter of the room, occasionally pausing to snag a photo on his phone.

Dean called him over to a emblem he hadn't examined yet. "Hey, what about this one? You seen this one before?"

He shook his head. "No."

"I have," Dean muttered. "Somewhere." He turned to check on his shadow, but she was across the room, standing on a rickety chair to investigate some chicken's feet nailed to the door jamb. "Charlie! What did I say?!"

She jerked dangerously at the shout, but turned to look at him questioningly before she moved. "I'm eight feet away from you."

"_Charlie!_"

Startled but not particularly surprised at his overbearing concern, she hopped down and scurried back over. Once she reached him, she reached out and grasped the seam of his leather jacket, fluttering her eyelashes at him in response to his glare.

Sam couldn't contain the grin, but he _was_ able to keep his frustrated older brother from seeing it when he turned back to him. "I don't know, Sam. I mean, I hate to agree with authority figures of any kind, but the cops might be right about this one."

"Yeah, maybe."

Then they heard something move in the room next to them. Swinging around, guns at the ready, they stepped gradually closer until they pressed their backs to the door frame, preparing themselves to move in unison. Sam looked at Charlie, standing next to him and obviously feeling useless. "Stay here."

Moving simultaneously, they burst into the room, then quickly hid their weapons when they saw the two nerdy-looking guys standing in the center of the kitchen. Both of the strangers screamed, but one tried to cover it by quickly yelling, "Cut! Just a couple of humans. What are you guys doing here?"

"What the hell are _you_ doing here?" Dean tossed back.

"Uh, we belong here," he answered with an adjustment of his glasses. "We're professionals."

"Professional _what_?"

"Paranormal investigators." Again, the words were said as if they were an answer Dean should already know. He handed the brothers a couple of business cards.

"Oh, you've gotta be kidding me."

"Ed Zeddmore and Harry Spangler. Hell Hound's Lair dot com." Sam's head shot up from where he was reading over Dean's shoulder. "You guys run that website.?"

"That's right. And, uh, we know who you guys are too."

Apprehensive glances were exchanged. "Oh, yeah?" Sam repeated.

"Amateurs. Lookin' for ghosts and cheap thrills."

His friend scoffed at them. "Yeah, so if you guys don't mind, we're trying to conduct a serious scientific investigation, here."

"Yeah? What do you got so far?" Dean scoffed right back, as Charlie peeked around the corner and, seeing no danger, slipped in to stand just behind him.

Seeing her, the first speaker puffed up his chest and made an effort to sound impressive. "Harry, why don't tell 'em about EMF?"

Harry imitated modesty. "Well..."

Clearly mocking them, at least clearly to Dean and Charlie, Sam questioned, "EMF?"

Harry went to explain, which Charlie appreciated since she really was curious. "Electromagnetic Field." He reached into his bag and pulled out a device similar to the ones Sam and Dean had tucked into their pockets, though his was clearly less used. "Spectral entities can cause energy fluctuation that can be read with an EMF detector, like this bad boy right here. Whoa, whoa 2.8--wow, it's hot in here."

Dean let out a whistle, pretending to be impressed. "So, you guys ever seen a real ghost before, or --?"

"Once," Ed answered. "We were investigating this old house and we saw a vase fall right off the table."

"By itself," Harry interjected.

They paused a moment before Ed admitted, "Well, we-we-we didn't actually see it, but we heard it. And something like that, it changes you."

Charlie buried her face in the sleeve of Dean's jacket, trying not to insult the goofballs by openly laughing at them, while he openly shook his head in amusement and Sam acted riveted. Dean used it as an excuse to start moving her to the door, as if she was frightened by the story. "Yeah. I think I get the picture. We should go -- let them get back to work."

Walking out the door, they heard Ed laugh. "Yeah, work. Sorry man, that pot we smoked gave me the giggles."

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The brothers split up to do some research, allowing Charlie to go off on her own for a bit. As agreed, they met back at the library where Sam had stayed. Sam eyed the largish shopping bag in her hands but courteously ignored it to go over what he'd discovered, namely that there was a record of a Murdock farmer in the house during the Depression, but his name was Martin, rather than Mordechai. Martin also had two sons as opposed to Mordechai's six daughters. Dean had come up equally empty-handed, unable to match the vague description of the girl the kids found to any police reports of missing woman.

"Dude, come on, man," Dean insisted as they walked back to the Impala. "We did our digging; this one's a bust, all right? For all we know, those Hell Hound boys made up the whole thing."

Sam still looked reluctant. "Yeah, all right."

"So, I say we find ourselves a bar and some beers, and leave the legend to the locals."

When Charlie made a move to climb in the back seat, Sam held out a hand to stop her, a move she appreciated when Dean turned the key in the ignition and Salsa music blasted out of the speakers. Somehow she failed to realize that it was Sam's doing until after Dean said something, when she finally became aware that they were barreling into a prank war.

Oh, yeah. This would go well.

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She was packing her things when Dean noticed the commotion. A string of three or four police cars and an accompanying ambulance were heading into the woods, toward the Murdock house. Despite their decision to consider the story an urban legend, they still climbed into the Impala to check it out.

When they did indeed arrive at the abandoned house, Charlie was told in no uncertain terms that she would not be leaving the car. In the split second that she considered arguing, she met Dean's eyes in the rear view mirror and held her tongue, briefly remembering that they hadn't been looking for some argumentative female to burden them while they were trying to do their job. She nodded reluctantly, watching as the brothers teamed up on a clearly disturbed man standing off by himself.

When they returned, they wore the same expression.

She stayed quiet, hoping one of them would tell her what was going on without her having to pester them for the information, and luckily Sam seemed to realize what she wanted.

"A teenage girl apparently hung herself in the basement. Smart kid with a bright future... we must have missed something."

"Maybe not," Dean argued, though clearly not convinced of his opinion himself. "It's not unheard of for supposedly happy people to off themselves."

"It's not," Charlie murmured, "but I don't think they often leave friends standing outside wile they do so." She leaned forward between them, pointing to the girl and boy arguing with a couple of detectives and wearing identical expressions of devastation mixed with guild. "I'm betting she went in there on some sort of dare. They look the right age for that."

"All right," Dean agreed somewhat reluctantly. "It may be a stretch, but we'll check it out again tonight. You," he immediately added, "are _not_ coming with us."

He seemed surprised at her quick agreement, but in all truth, she wasn't that eager to investigate it again with a verified suspicious death added to its history. After all, she reminded herself, she'd only had the existence of a supernatural world confirmed two days before.

"We should wait until the cops clear out," Sam decided. "Come back tonight when they're done with the scene."

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She waited, trying to distract herself with beginning of three different books and failing miserably. Her imagination ran wild, racing from horrible possibility to horrible possibility. When she thought she might see a path of tread marks on the carpet, she splashed some cold water on her face and tried to calm down.

She was frustrated with her lack of information about the brothers. She knew she could trust them; she'd always had an abnormally good instinct when it came to people, which is what eased her concerns about traveling with the Winchesters. But trusting someone to keep her safe didn't tell her much about whether they could handle themselves against a murderous ghost with an affinity for hanging teenage girls. She suspected they would be fine. After all, the way they talked indicated that they had quite a bit of experience with this sort of work. But the past few years had taught her that Murphy of Murphy's Law was not particularly fond of her. If something could go wrong, it usually would. Judging from how her experiences usually went, she could expect at least one of them to come back seriously wounded.

Just as that gristly thought went through her mind, the Winchesters returned, both of them ragged and dirty but relatively unharmed. "Hey, kid," Dean teased, acting nonchalant as he dropped onto the bed he claimed earlier without a care in the world. "How was your night?"

"Practically a trip to the spa," she shot back sarcastically. "Where have you been?! You left two," she glanced at the clock on the bed-side table, "and a half hours ago?"

"We met Mordechai," Sam answered from his seat on his own bed. "He was ... not friendly."

"Plus we had to duck the cops they had watching the place."

When Dean yawned and started to pull his sheets back, Charlie protested. "You do realize you'll be taking a shower before either of you go to bed. You smell sort of ... awful."

He grumbled and complained under his breath, but he made his way into the bathroom with a change of clothes anyway. While the water ran, Sam caught her up on what all had happened.

"You sent the cops after those poor kids?" she laughed, having joined him sitting Indian-style on his bed. "That's so mean."

"Yeah, maybe," he chuckled, "but they would have gotten themselves in trouble all on their own. And for that matter," he added, giving her a gentle shove to the shoulder, "where do you have room to call them kids? They're probably a good three years older than you."

She stuck her tongue out at him, wrinkling her nose childishly.

It was, of course, the first thing Dean saw when he sauntered back into the room. "Cute."

She responded by blushing as she darted off of the bed and away from a laughing Sam under the pretense of looking for something in her bag. Sam tussled her hair as he went by for his turn to clean up. Charlie kept up the act for a few more moments, then turned back to find the older brother leaning against the headboard with his hands behind his head and a grin directed at her.

She rolled her eyes, but blushed a little harder as well. "So you're not hurt, then?" she questioned, desperately hoping to divert his attention.

"Nah," he told her. "The spirit's a nasty one, but it didn't get a hand on us, really."

"Good."

"So you planning to crash with us again, since we haven't rented your room yet? Or did your friend make another appearance?"

"No, it was pretty quiet, but if it's all right with you, I'd still like to stay in here."

"I don't mind, and I doubt Sam does. Can I ask why?"

She shrugged. "All by myself in a strange room? Not my idea of a great time or a great night's sleep. Plus if I end up staying with you for long, it'll be cheaper and I won't feel like so much of a burden."

"All right then." He swung his legs off to the side to get up. "Then let's go get you some blankets."

"No need." Charlie knelt next to the shopping bag from earlier and pulled out her purchase. "I picked this up today." She shot another quick glance at the clock. "Well, yesterday. The salesman said that this was the kind he uses for camping."

"Nice." He looked the sleeping bag over, making an expression of appreciation. "Looks comfy, but are you sure you don't mind using it?"

She smiled--_sweetly, his inner monologue decided_--and shook her head.

Sam's shower took a little longer, and by the time he was finished, Charlie was bundled up and out cold. Dean was flipping channels and pretending not to sneak protective glances at the sleeping blonde.

"You know," Sam mentioned, "I don't think she'll disappear between commercial breaks."

His brother's expression soured. "Whatever, dude. She's just -- I mean, it's one thing to look out for you; you know the dangers included in this life. She doesn't really have a clue. What if she gets hurt? What if it's my fault?"

"She seems pretty smart. She didn't try to argue with us to go tonight when she knew it could be dangerous. And we can always spend some time teaching her to defend herself when we can work it."

"I guess." Dean smiled. "She's a sweet kid, though, isn't she? I think she's torn between wanting to get involved to help with our work, and worry about being an inconvenience. Makes me feel bad about getting her into all this."

"We didn't, Dean. The nasty spirit attacking her did." Sam paused just a moment. "Sweet kid, huh?"

"Yeah." With that, the conversation was over. "Night, Sammy. Dream of clowns."

"Ha. Ha."

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Charlie woke to the brothers discussing what they'd learned from their encounter the night before.

"What the hell is this symbol? It's bugging the hell outta me. This whole damn job is buggin' me. I thought the legend said that Mordechai only goes after chicks."

"He does," Sam answered absently.

"Right. Well, then that explains why he went after you, but why me?"

"Hilarious."

She tried to stifle her giggle at the size of Dean's ego. but he still heard her. "Good morning, kid. How'd you sleep?"

"Still sleeping. Go away." She could sense his grin, even tucked inside the smartest buy she'd ever made. She wasn't sure, however, if it made her want to glow or smack him.

Sam interrupted her debate. "The legend also says he hung himself, but you see those slit wrists?"

"Yeah," Dean replied, returning his attention to the conversation at hand.

"What's up with that? And the axe, too. I mean, ghosts are usually pretty strict, right? Following the same patterns over and over?"

"But this mook keeps changin'."

As the boys talked, she came to the realization that they were _not_, in fact, going to vanish and allow her to go back to sleep. Somewhat grudgingly, she grabbed her change of clothes for the day and disappeared into the bathroom. When she emerged - dressed, groomed, and only slightly resentful about being awake - she sat down on Sam's bed to braid her hair back into its usual style and half-listened to Sam reading from the Hell Hounds' website at the computer.

"They say Mordechai Murdock was really a Satanist who chopped up his victims with an axe before slitting his own wrists. Now he's imprisoned in the house for all eternity." Dean startled Charlie when he suddenly sat up, still staring intently at his doodles of the mysterious symbol. "Where the hell is this going?"

"I don't know," Dean answered, "but I think I might have just figured out where it all started." He launched himself to his feet, heading to the door. "Come on, Charlie, you can play with your hair in the car."

The jerk didn't even react when the shoe connected with his back.

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Wherever Charlie expected Dean to drive them at his typical twenty-five miles an hour over the speed limit, the record store where Craig Thurston, the kid they originally heard about Mordechai from, worked part time. The kid was there, going about his job and looking guilty as hell. When Dean approached him despite his protests, she started to hang back before her curiosity made her get close enough to listen in on their conversation.

"...couldn't figure out what that symbol was," Dean was saying, "and then I realized, it doesn't mean anything. It's the logo for Blue Oyster Cult. So, tell me, Craig, are you into BOC? Or just scaring the hell outta people?" He handed a record album over, and Craig's face dropped when he took a look at it. "So, why don't you tell us about that house without lyin' through ass this time?"

Craig gulped, then somewhat grudgingly told his tale. About how he and his cousin decided to play a prank on his friends. About how his cousin pretended to be the girl hanging, explaining the disappearing body. About how that would have been, well, _that_ except those friends wouldn't stop telling the story, which eventually found its way onto the Hell Hounds website.

As they turned to leave, she heard Dean mutter to his brother, "If none of it was real, then how the hell do you explain Mordechai?"

They decided to call a break for lunch. Sam, feeling grungy after waking at the crack of dawn and pouring over dusty tomes until Dean's revelation, opted for another shower while Dean ran errands and Charlie investigated the stock at an ancient, local bookstore, hoping to begin building her own little library of occult lore. When she met them later at the selected restaurant, the elder Winchester looked smug about something and the younger looked physically uncomfortable.

Ignoring his repeated and somewhat inexplicable shifting, Charlie listened as Sam filled her in on their suspicions that Mordechai was actually a 'tulpa' which he defined as being a Tibetian thought form. As they grabbed their drinks and found a table, Dean spoke up, "All right, so keep goin', what about these tulpas?"

Sam pulled out his laptop and started looking for something while he spoke. "Okay, uh, so there was this incident in Tibet in 1915. A group of monks visualized a golem in their heads. They meditate on it so hard, they bring the thing to life -- out of thing air."

"How does this crap go on without the whole world knowing about it?"

"Ah, Charlie," Dean joked, "I hate to tell you this, but people are, as a general rule, really really stupid." He nudged her with an elbow at her glare, then turned his attention back to their waiting lecturer. "So?"

"That was twenty monks. Imagine what ten thousand web surfers could do. I mean, Craig starts a story about Mordechai and it spreads, goes online. Now there are countless people all believing in the bastard."

Dean made a face. "Okay, wait a second. You're trying to tell me hat just because people believe in Mordechai, he's real?"

"I don't know, maybe."

"People believe in Santa Clause. How come I'm not getting hooked up every Christmas?"

"'Cause you're a bad person."

"Sam!" Charlie burst out in reprimand, half-laughing, but Dean just nodded his head in acknowledgement. She smacked them both on the shoulder.

Sam grinned, then continued to explain what he believed was happening, how the two teens playing a joke painted a symbol used for concentrating mental thoughts without actually knowing what it was. A picture of it had been posted on the website, allowing people to focus on it and bring the tulpa to life.

"That would explain why he keeps changing," Dean commented.

"Right. As the legend changes, people think different things, so Mordechai himself changes, like a game of telephone. That would also explain why the rock salt didn't work."

"Why?" the blonde whispered to Dean.

"Because he's not a traditional spirit, per se."

Judging from her expression, that only raised more questions.

Guessing it would take more than just getting rid of the symbol, Dean called for ideas on how to destroy the tulpa. Charlie suggested posting an update on the website that disproved the legend, but apparently a tulpa's existence was no longer reliant on belief once it was created.

Suddenly, Dean paused. "Huh. I got an idea. Come on."

"Where are we going?" Sam asked, closing his laptop and trying to help Charlie get everything picked up.

"I gotta find a copy store."

The third time Sam stopped in their hurry to ... adjust himself, Charlie couldn't contain herself. "Okay, Sam, enough. What are you _doing_?"

He turned slightly red. "I think I'm allergic to our soap or something." Dean laughed, walking away. "You did this?" Dean just laughed again. "You're a friggin' jerk!"

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Charlie was given the job of tracking down the Hell Hound goofballs, which led them to a trailer. Sam and Dean threatened the duo, then traded a juicy secret about Mordechai for the promise to shut down the website. They'd judged the nerds well. Instead of fulfilling that promise, Ed and Harry posted the faked information fed to them, giving Mordechai a fatal weakness.

It was decided that their next step would be lunch, since they never actually got to eat at their previous stop. Tucked into the booth next to Sam, they both watched as Dean sipped on his beer and repeatedly tugged the chain that caused the fisherman hanging on the wall beside them to repeatedly let out an obnoxious laugh. Finally, his brother grabbed it from him, silencing the wooden figure. "If you pull that string one more time, I'm gonna kill you."

They stared at each other for a moment, then a hand reached out to pull the string one more time. It was silenced almost immediately.

Dean just laughed, sounding uncannily like the toy. "Come on, man. You need more laughter in your life, you know, you're way too tense."

Their tagalong spoke up, attempting to avoid brotherly violence in public, "Have they posted that bogus story yet?"

Sam turned the laptop to so she and Dean could see it. Dean began reading, "We have learned from reputable sources that Mordechai Murdock has a fatal fear of firearms."

"You two are reliable sources?"

Dean winked at her, then asked, "All right, how long do we wait?"

Sam closed the computer. "Long enough for the story to spread and the legend to change. I figure by nightfall, iron rounds will work on the sucker." He held up his beer bottle and Dean tapped it with his own in salute. But when Dean went to put it down, he couldn't unwrap his hand from around the glass. A few times he tried to jerk it loose, then accepted the fact that he was, well, stuck. He looked up at Sam in shock.

"You didn't."

Sam grinned and triumphantly held up a tube of superglue. "Oh, I so did."

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Charlie was given the opportunity to prove herself that night, since she knew she wouldn't be able to stay by herself at the motel without running the risk of worrying herself into a coma. So when the brothers were in position, she started up the psychotic laughing fisherman they'd 'borrowed' from the diner, rigging it to continue its racket until the police on duty discovered it. She knew she'd given them more than enough time to get into the house, which was her only task for the evening. Still, she didn't want to risk the cops going inside to investigate strange noises and being faced with Mordechai.

So when they turned back to head to the house, she stepped out between them and their destination. "Thank goodness I found you!" she gushed, racing up to them. "I took this stupid dare to come up to the Murdock house, 'cause I really wanted to see it. But now I can't remember how to get back to the road where I'm supposed to be picked up."

As she counted on, the officers were taken in by her bashful stance and faint blush. "No problem," the heavier officer told her comfortingly. "Where were you supposed to meet your friends?"

"It was a couple of miles down the road, at the second stop sign."

They walked her down to the specified corner, and she quickly sent a text message to the Winchesters telling them the change in the plan.

They didn't get it right away. As luck would have it, the story hadn't spread near enough, thanks to a server crash. When the Hell Hound boys showed up, and were consequently pursued by the tulpa, Dean came to a decision. Getting everyone out, he pulled out a lighter and tossed it into the large pool of accelerant he'd made. Thanks to the dry spell the area had been going through, the house lit up like a tinderbox.l

"That's the solution?" Sam questioned. "Burn the whole damn place to the ground?"

"Well, no one will go in anymore. I mean, look, Mordechai can't haunt a house if there's no house to haunt. It's fast and dirty, but it works."

"But what if the legend changes, and Mordechai _is _allowed to leave the house?"

" Well, then, we'll just have to come back."

They watched the flames for a moment, then as they began walking back to where they parked the car, Sam mused aloud, "Kind of makes you wonder -- of all the things we've hunted, how many existed just 'cause people believed in them?"

Dean was saved from finding a response when they reached the Impala and found it alone. "Where the hell is Charlie?"

Sam vaguely remembered his phone sounding an alert right about the time things got interesting. "Distracted the cops a bit longer," he read from his messages. "Pick me up down the road."

"Distracted the cops?" Dean muttered as the engine turned over. "What does that mean?"

They found her at the intersection of the main drive to the Murdock house and the hack road they had taken, sitting against the stop sign and giggling at something one of the policemen had said. As soon as the car stopped and Dean's window rolled down, she was standing next to it. "I did it!" she exclaimed. "I went up to Mordechai's house by myself!" Ducking her head as though in embarrassment, the blonde admitted, "And then I managed to get myself lost in the woods trying to follow the road back. Don't ask me how. Luckily, Micah and Derek here found me."

"Thanks," Dean spoke up, directing the words to the officers. "We didn't really want her to go up there on her own, but she insisted."

She opened the door to the backseat and slid in, looking for all intents and purposes like a small child who'd successfully tied her shoes for the first time. The cops waved, then turned to head back to their post, unaware of the bonfire they were returning to.

As soon as they were out of sight, Sam looked to her in the rear view mirror. "What was that about?"

She explained with a shrug. "So... how did I do?"

Dean considered his words carefully, pointedly not meeting her eyes. "You were a lot of help, but, Charlie, I meant it. I don't want you coming on hunts with us."

"That's all right. I'd probably get myself in all kinds of trouble at this point. I just want to be able to help."

* * *

Destiny's Darkness  
2-18-2009


	5. Chapter 5 : The Time Between

**The Third Wheel**  
by Destiny's Darkness

* * *

Disclaimer: I make no claim to anything Supernatural. Dean, Sam, and the Impala belong to some mysterious figure up in the hierarchy of the television world. Charlie is my creation, though my only condition on her use is to let me know how you play with her, just to see what kind of scrapes she gets into.

Author's Note: There is really no excuse for how long it took for this chapter to arrive. Writer's block, family illnesses and hospitalizations, changing schools and finding an apartment were all contributing factors, but the real kicker was sheer struggle with changing the episode to fit in our tagalong. I had trouble balancing out new material with what the Supernatural gods have already given us. You'll have to let me know how I managed.

Huge favor, if ya'll could indulge me: I've discovered a fictional relationship that perfectly matches how I want Dean and Charlie's to turn out. If anyone knows the (slightly older) show Las Vegas, you probably can tell I'm trying to pull off the same feel as that of Danny and Mary. She's in love, he's protective but oblivious. He's crazy about her as well, isn't quite able to admit it to himself. This, this is how I pictured Charlie and Dean when I first started playing with the idea of matching them up. That being said, I'd love some feedback on whether or not I captured that emotion.

* * *

Chapter 5 : The Time Between

* * *

**Previously**:

_"So... how did I do?"_

_Dean considered his words carefully, pointedly not meeting her eyes. "You were a lot of help, but, Charlie, I meant it. I don't want you coming on hunts with us."_

_"That's all right. I'd probably get myself in all kinds of trouble at this point. I just want to be able to help."_

_

* * *

_

Charlie Palmer had visited more bars in the three weeks that she had been traveling with the Winchester brothers than the rest of her life combined. She nursed her beer - or rather, took a few sips from the beer Dean had shoved in her direction before passing the mug from hand to hand playing with the condensation - while watching Dean talk up some girl she was beginning to recognize as his usual type. Sam sat beside her at the little table, pouring over the stack of newspapers he'd collected and comparing them to his father's journal, searching for their next case.

Closing her eyes to focus on listening to the over cranked music, she jumped when Sam suddenly shot straight up in his seat in order to wave Dean over, who clearly ignored him. Sam gestured again, and this time Dean excused himself from the barfly, though judging from his expression he was reluctant to do so.

"All right," Sam burst out as soon as his brother arrived, "so, I think I got something."

"Oh, yeah," came the quick reply. "Me too. I think we need to take a little shore leave for just a little bit. I'm so in the door with his one." He pointed to his target where she was being joined by a friend.

Leaning forward on the table, Sam questioned, "So, what are we today, Dean? Are we rock stars? Are we army rangers?"

"Renegade demon hunters?" Charlie chimed in. She ignored Dean's glare.

"Reality TV scouts looking for people with special skills." As the brothers chuckled, the blonde girl stared down the bimbos, unable to believe anyone could fall for one of Dean's ridiculous pick-up lines. He continued, "I mean, she's got a friend over there. I could probably hook you up, what do you think?"

"Dean, no thanks. I can get my own dates."

"Yeah, but you don't."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

The older brother quickly became aware that he wandered on dangerous territory. "Nothin'. What do you got?"

"Mark and Anne Telesca of New Paltz, New York, were both found dead in their home just a few days ago." Dean made a noise of agreement, eyes still locked on the girls at the bar. "Throats were slit, there were no prints, no murder weapons - Dean." At the same time as he snapped out his brother's name, Charlie punched the distracted man in the shoulder. He rewarded them by looking just vaguely guilty as he focused again. "No prints, no murder weapons," Sam repeated, "all doors and windows were locked from the inside."

"Could be a garden variety murder, you know, not our department."

"Dad says different."

"What do you mean?"

"Look." Sam turned the journal to face Dean, while Charlie peered at the pages upside down, and began to point out specific lines as he explained. "Dad noted three murders in the same area of upstate New York. First one, right here, 1912, the second one in 1945, and the third in 1970. The same M.O. as the Telescas - the throats were slit, the houses were locked from the inside. Now, so much time passed between the murders that nobody checked the pattern, except for Dad. He always kept his eyes peeled for another one."

"And now we got one," Dean agreed.

"Exactly."

Their companion couldn't help but speak up. "Your dad's a freakin' genius. Some of the stuff he put together is insane."

Dean shot her a grin. "All right, I'm with ya. It's worth checking out. We can't pick this up till the first thing, though, right?"

With a swift exchange of confused glances, "Yeah."

"Good." With that, he stood and walked back up to the bar and its waiting females. As they overheard him talking, Sam laughed. Charlie bemoaned the fate of her gender.

* * *

Charlie stayed in the car with a sleeping Dean while Sam checked out the Telescas' home. She had just dozed off when the horn was honked. Loudly. Both she and Dean jumped out of their seats.

"Man, that is so not cool."

Sam grinned, getting back into the driver's seat of the Impala. "I just swept the Telesca house with the EMF. It's clean. And last night while you were … out … "

Both of his companions rolled their eyes at Dean's self-satisfied grin. "Good times. Hey!" He rubbed the back of his head where Charlie had smacked him.

"Anyway, Charlie and I took the history of the house. No haunting, no violent crimes, nothing strange about the Telescas themselves either."

"There was one great story," Charlie interrupted, "about this cheating husband, a former resident, who fled naked out the window when his wife came home early. Managed to get himself stuck in a tree with all his business hanging there for the world to see…" She noticed the amused looks she was getting from both brothers. "It doesn't really pertain here though."

Dean winked at her before continuing their group think. "All right, so if it's not the people and it's not the house, then, uh, maybe it's the contents – a cursed object or something'?"

Sam shook his head. "The house is clean."

"Yeah, I know, you said that."

"No, I mean, it's empty. No furniture, nothin'."

Dean twisted to face his brother. "Where's all their stuff?"

* * *

It was nearly impossible for Charlie to miss the Winchester entrance. They'd dropped her off first so they could run some unspecified errands, after she'd exchanged her comfy capri's for something a little less causal, specifically dark slacks and a flowy top. Sam and Dean, however, had evidently not followed in her stead, choosing to stay in their well-worn jeans and leather jackets. Cringing, she watched from the railing above as Dean obviously managed to insult the owner of the auction house, or as he preferred to term it, the yard sale for rich people. She just prayed he hadn't repeated the sentiment to the clearly proud man.

"Friends of yours?" the woman beside her asked. Sarah Blake, the gorgeous daughter of the very man they'd just walked away from.

"Only if it's not going to get me kicked out."

They exchanged a glance before Sarah made her way down the stairs to approach them herself. The blonde followed only to the top landing, close enough to eavesdrop but still stay out of the way.

"A fine example of American primitive, wouldn't you say?" Sarah called out, testing them.

Confusion momentarily chased the pure male appreciation across Sam's face, taking another quick peek at the painting in question, which they had been examining. "I'd say it's more Grant Wood than Grandma Moses," he rebutted. She sent a bashful smile downward. "But you knew that. You just wanted to see if I did."

"Guilty. And clumsy, I apologize." They made the proper introductions, as the Connor brothers, with Dean once more embarrassing his sibling with his lack of manners.

"What can you tell us about the Telesca estate?" Sam inquired.

With a quick glance at Charlie, she admitted, "The whole thing's a little grisly, if you ask me, selling their things this soon. But Dad's right about one thing. Sensationalism brings out the crowds - even the rich ones."

The taller man returned her smile. "Is it possible to see the provenances?"

Daniel Blake interrupted his daughter before she could agree. "I'm afraid there isn't any chance of that."

"Why not?"

"You're not on the guest list. And I think it's time to leave."

Dean worked up an impressive display of wounded ego. "Well, we don't have to be told twice."

The older man fixed him in his gaze. "Apparently you do."

Before Dean could aggravate the man any further, Sam jumped in. "Okay, it's all right. We don't want any trouble." Dean turned on his heal and started toward the door, while Sam shared another long look with Sarah before following in the wake of such an impressive exit.

Charlie started after them, quickly coming to a halt when Mr. Blake stared her down, both only vaguely hearing his daughter's murmured reproach of, "Dad, that was rude."

"And just who are you?"

Little Miss Best-Behavior Palmer didn't have to fake the blush on her cheeks at his clear distain. "I'm sorry. I'm definitely not on the guest list, either."

Sarah took hold of Charlie's elbow, both stopping her impending flight and lending the blonde her support. "Dad, this is Charlene Sanderson. Her sister Jackie was very good friends with Anne Telesca in college."

"They were still close," Charlie confirmed her fake story. "Still kept in touch up until, well, you know."

Both Blakes gave the customary nod of understanding at the delicate topic.

"Jackie would have come herself, but her mother-in-law just came down with an illness of some kind, and she just deplores Jackie as her precious Nathaniel's bride of choice." She leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially, "Particularly since Jackie decided to keep her last name." Daniel looked amused at the scandalous action. "Anyway, the woman is absolutely insisting that Jackie drop everything else and attend to her. And Jackie so wants her approval."

Inwardly, Charlie suspected the work of fiction was unnecessary, and the delivery was definitely over the top, but it seemed to be concreting her plausibility. "She asked me to come down in her place. I couldn't get here in time for the funeral itself, but I made sure that I made it for this."

Sarah added to her story. "It seems Anne called Jackie, the night that she died, to tell her about something she had. An interesting surprise to entice her come visit. Something unusual."

"Strange, that was the word she used."

"Can you think of what that might have been?" the brunette asked her father.

He shook his head slowly. "The Telesca's had a wide and eclectic taste. That could describe a number of their belongings. I'll tell you what, I'll take another look at the inventory from the Telesca's estate, and I'll see if anything fits the bill. How does that sound to you?"

"That would be wonderful," the blonde gushed. "Thank you so much."

He clasped her hand in welcome, then made his excuses to return to the rest of the showing's guests.

She moved to extend her thanks to Sarah as well, only to find the elegant woman studying her. "You were trying to catch up with the Connors, right?"

Charlie flushed. "Yes. I know absolutely nothing about art so I asked them to accompany me here. I'm so sorry to have caused a problem."

She laughed. "Don't worry. My father is just a little stuffy sometimes. I suppose the shorter one was just a little - "

"Ill-mannered? Uncouth? Barbaric?"

"I was leaning toward 'rough around the edges'."

"Anyway, they're probably waiting outside for me."

Sarah held out a hand to stop her exit, but hesitated to make another move, clearly holding a mental debate about something. "I can't believe I'm doing this. But if Sam happens to say anything about me," she held out a slip of paper with a number written on it for Charlie to take, "could you give this to him for me?"

The blonde let out a chuckle at her obvious discomfort and embarrassment. "I'm sure he'll be calling. He seemed very intrigued."

On that note, Charlie finally made her exit. Sure enough, she found the Impala idling just outside the building. She slid into the back seat and gave Dean another smack to the head.

"Hey! What was that for?"

"Insulting a man we're trying to get information from? Really?"

He rolled his shoulder, as though it might make the semi-joking reprimand slide off. "The guy rubbed me the wrong way."

"Well next time, suck it up, Princess."

Sam couldn't contain his amusement at his tough-as-nails sibling's dilemma after that last comment. Seeing the man who only answer to one person - their father - being lectured by someone half his size sent him into uncontrollable laughter.

"You finished?" Dean asked as the sound finally wound down. Sam nodded and wiped the wetness from his eyes. Dean glared a moment longer, then aimed the expression at the female in the rear view mirror. "And what took you so long?"

She fluttered her eyelashes at him, at his irritation. "I was soliciting Mr. Blake's help." Judging from the silence, they were waiting for her to continue. "My sister Jackie went to school with Anne Telesca, you see."

* * *

Dean glanced over at Charlie, who was curled up against the headboard of Sam's bed, utterly engrossed in one of their more basic books on the supernatural world. He'd noticed that about her already in the two or so weeks they'd been traveling together, that tendency to retreat into herself. She would ball up instead of stretching out, as if protecting herself from the outside world. She never initiated any physical contact either, something that contrasted with her timid but affectionate manner. Idly, he wondered if it was because of the way she'd been forced to live for the past few years, or if it was just the way she was.

"Who's Jessica?"

He snapped back out of his thoughts to find the blonde studying him, the book closed and forgotten in her lap. "Jessica?"

"You and Sam had that argument the other day. You said something about a Jessica."

"Sam and Jessica were dating, living together. After he initially came with me to try and find our father, he came home to find her pinned to the ceiling just like our mother. They were killed by the same thing, the same monster."

They sat in silence for a moment, Dean uncomfortable with how serious the conversation had become while Charlie stared at the cover of the text in her lap. They'd gone over some basic family history with her, enough to let her understand what was going on in their lives, but they'd been sparse on the details, for obvious reasons.

"I'm sorry."

He shrugged it off. "How's the book? Discover anything interesting?"

"It's all fascinating. I'm just trying to wrap my head around all this information."

"Kind of blows your high school science classes out of the water, huh?"

"Maybe."

He cocked an eyebrow, but she still had yet to left her eyes and meet his gaze. "Only maybe?"

"I'm still working it out. But everything has an explanation; we just may not be able to understand it." She quirked the corner of her mouth in a small, bashful smile. "I guess everyone searches for meaning, though."

"Yeah. There are rules, though, for how this stuff all works, so you could be very right." He glanced at the clock, absently noting that he would normally be heading out for the closest bar by now. "Any questions?" He could see the hesitation in her face. "I know you're just getting to know me, but let me tell you, I don't offer to do something if I don't mean it, or I'm not interested."

She looked up, deciding quickly. "Okay," she began, bounding from her current position and across the space between the beds to sit facing Dean, "why salt? I know it's used in preserving meat, but is there a better reason that it's considered a purifying agent?"

Dean found himself enjoying the conversation more than he anticipated. Some of her questions he could answer easily, but most of them were about things he'd never considered. Was Christianity the only religion to offer the ability to bless water into Holy Water, or could practitioners of other faith do it too? Could a spirit of one religion be exorcised by the methods of a different one? If someone didn't believe in their protection, would it work? Or was it like in Voodoo where one had to believe in something for it to have an effect? Before either knew it, nearly two hours had gone by and Sam was walking back through their door.

"How was the date?" Dean asked.

* * *

Smelling of smoke and charred paint, the brothers reentered their 1970s hotel room quietly, mindful of the fact all their lights but one lamp were turned off. The TV was flickering with the sound turned way down. Charlie had fallen asleep on top of Sam's bed, clutching a pillow to her chest like a teddy bear. Dean surprised himself with a brief stab of jealousy at the bed she chose, though it was quickly overcome by concern at seeing the cut and emerging bruise along her cheek bone. "Charlie!"

She didn't snap awake, but that wasn't much of a shock. Their new partner had a tendency to wake slowly, over the course of several minutes. She'd been trying to adapt to their lifestyle, but this was taking her more effort than anything else. So Dean started shaking her shoulder in an attempt to rouse her as Sam took a seat to her side.

"Hmmm... Dean," she murmured as she began to come to, "did something go wrong with destroying the painting?"

He ignored her question in favor of one of his own. "What happened?"

She stared at him blankly, blinking away the last of her sleepiness. "What happened?" she repeated.

"To your face, Charlie. What happened to your face?"

A hand came up to gently trace the bruise. "It's not a big deal. Something caught my ankle, and I tripped. The table tried to help break my fall."

Sam took hold of her chin to turn her face this way and that. "Think we should take you to the emergency room? You could have broken your cheek bone."

"There's really nothing they can do, other than maybe put a plaster on it, which is seriously uncomfortable. Besides, nothing's broken. Just a small cut and an ugly bruise." She smiled awkwardly, clearly more embarrassed than in pain.

Dean looked at her a minute longer before abruptly moving to the door to the bathroom and vanishing into it. "I didn't mean to make him mad," she worried as the sink started to run.

"He's just upset because you got hurt on his watch." When she didn't respond or pull her eyes from the shut door, Sam sighed. "I almost hate to bring this up, but do you have any idea what's targeting you?" When she shook her head, he asked, "When did it start?"

"A little after my family's car accident."

"Do you think it could have been responsible for the accident?"

Her expression changed to something Sam couldn't quite decipher. The eyes went dark, the mouth became a thin line, and her posture became decidedly more rigid. "No."

"Are you sure? I mean, it could have - "

"No."

The floor felt almost unsteady to Sam as he fought his instinct to step backward from the blonde. He'd seen a number of sides to Charlie - sad, joking, affectionate, withdrawn, nervous, excited - but he'd never expected to find her threatening. He knew she wouldn't hurt him, yet... it was exceedingly clear she wanted him to drop the subject. Immediately.

The door opened to let Dan back in, grime cleaned from his face, and he froze at the sight before him. 'Little' Sammy rarely found himself intimidated, particularly to the point he was at facing the tiny companion they'd picked up. When Sam fixed his sight on him with a slow shake of the head, the elder Winchester realized he'd started to draw his gun. He halted the movement, but didn't begin to replace it as he stepped to get a better view of Charlie's face. The movement caught her attention and snapped her out of whatever had come over her. Immediately her cheeks flushed and her gaze dropped. "I'm sorry, Sam. You're just trying to help me, and I get all antagonistic. It's just ... whatever my little friend is, it's not responsible for the accident. Please, just take my word on that." She grabbed her sweatshirt from beside the door. "I'm gonna get something to drink. Anyone want anything?"

When both brothers responded in the negative, she moved around Sam and slipped out of the door, closing it firmly behind her.

"What the hell was that?"

Sam shrugged, clearly just as unclear.

"Well, what accident were you two talking about?"

"The one that killed her family." A silence stretched between them until Sam asked, "You checked out that crash, right?"

"Wasn't a lot of information, but yeah. Another driver on the road had a tire blow out and lost control of his truck. He hit their car, causing them to crash into a tree sideways, then flip. Charlie was thrown clear. Tragic, sure, but without the slightest hint of supernatural influence."

"So why'd she get so upset?"

"I don't know, man. She lost her entire family in one accident, and with nothing she could really hold responsible other than a weak tire."

Sam grimaced, feeling a fierce stab of guilt at bringing all the memories back up for her. "I'm gonna go find her."

* * *

He didn't have to look far. Rather than wandering off to find a vending machine, she'd sunk to the ground next to their door, arms wrapped about her knees as she stared into space. He dropped down next to her. "Charlie, I'm sorry for upsetting you."

She waved off his apology. "It was a valid line of thought, Sam. I just overreacted." He tossed an arm around her shoulders for a half-hug. "So, Dean's teasing aside, are you interested in Sarah?"

Sam may not have been expecting the change of topic, but he wasn't entirely surprised either. "I guess so. I mean, I can't be honest with her about who I am or what I do, so..."

He felt her laugh in the shaking of her body beneath his arm. "Sam, I didn't ask if you were planning to propose, or even get serious about her. Just if you like her."

"That's the problem. I think she's someone I could get serious about very easily."

"And you don't want to risk anything happening to her."

He didn't have to respond to the statement.

"I guess it's a waste of breath to point out that she could be hit by an out-of-control street sweeper next week."

"Which would be awful, but it wouldn't be my fault."

She nodded her comprehension of the logic, then quirked her lips in a wry smile. "Do me a favor, would ya? Don't tell her your reasoning. It's a bit... demeaning."

"I don't think it should be a problem, considering we're leaving in the morning. I'll probably never even see her again."

* * *

"So let me get this straight," Charlie murmured to the Winchesters, particularly Sam, while they waited for the librarian to return, "Dean pretended to lose his wallet to trick you into seeing Sarah again?"

Sam couldn't quite hide his embarrassment. "Yeah."

"And you didn't see that coming?" Dean just snickered.

"I thought the important part of that story is that the painting we cut out and burned to ash last night was back in its frame, showing no signs of damage."

Any response was cut off by the return of the librarian. "You said the Isaiah Merchant family, right? I dug up every scrap of local history I could find. So, uh, are you kids crime buffs?"

With a quick exchange of glances, Dean replied, "Kind of. Why do you ask?"

The man's response was to hold up an old newspaper, whose headline read 'Father Slaughters Family, Kills Self'.

"Yeah, that sounds about right."

Sam spoke up. "The whole family was killed?"

"It seems this Isaiah - he slits his kids' throats, then his wife, then himself. Now, he was a barber by trade - used a straight razor."

With a few more questions, it was revealed that this barber was a strict, controlling man whose wife might have been considering taking their two sons and adopted daughter when she left him. To the Winchester's annoyance, the bodies of the family were cremated.

"Anything else?" Sam questioned.

"Yeah. Actually, I found a picture of the family. It's right here somewhere." He paused to open a book to a certain marked page. "Right. Here it is." He showed them a picture of the painting, but something about it caught Sam's attention.

"Hey, could we get a copy of that?"

* * *

As usual, the brother's were disagreeing. Back in the hotel room, Sam insisted, "I'm telling you, man, I'm sure of it. Painting at the auction house, Dad is lookin' down. Painting here, Dad's lookin' out. The painting has changed, Dean."

Charlie was slightly disturbed by how easily she accepted this strange new turn of events. They discussed the implications, that the barber was still killing people and that other things in the painting may have also changed. Inevitably, they decided that closer examination was necessary.

* * *

The Impala slammed to a halt in front of Evelyn's house. Sam decided that since the painting had changed from its original state, they needed to see the painting again to compare the differences. But Sarah informed them that her father had gone behind her back and sold it to its next, unsuspecting victim, leading to a frantic cross-town dash.

The brunette was waiting for them. "Sam, what's happening?" she asked as soon as the trio was out of the Chevy.

He refused to answer, instead replying, "I told you, you shouldn't have come." She ignored him in return, following them up to the front door where Dean banged on the door and called for the woman inside, while Sarah continued to try and pry information out of the younger Winchester.

Finally, Dean gave up on his attempt to get inside the legal way. "I can't knock this sucker down. I gotta pick it."

"What are you guys, burglars?"

"I wish it was that simple." Dean finished his work on the lock, swinging the door open cautiously. "Look, you should really wait in the car, it's for your own good." With those parting words, Sam and Dean entered the house, leaving Charlie and Sarah staring at each other on the porch.

"The hell I will," Sarah decided quickly, "Evelyn's a friend."

Right off the bad, Charlie noticed that there was something more frightening about a silent house that should have been inhabited, though she suspected that her prior knowledge might have colored her opinions. They moved through the rooms quickly and efficiently, calling for their unknowing hostess.

Whom they found in the living room, seated in an armchair facing away from them and toward the painting. In the back of Charlie's mind, she noted that Sam was right; Isaiah was looking down at his adopted daughter rather than toward the painter like the rest of his family.

"Evelyn? Evelyn?" the brunette called out as they crept closer. "It's Sarah Blake. Are you all right?" She put a hand on Evelyn's shoulder.

Just as Sam leapt forward with a "Sarah, no. Sarah!" the weight of Sarah's hand changed the woman's balance, causing her head to fall back and reveal her grotesquely slit throat. Sarah, naturally, screamed while Charlie latched onto Dean. And a flash of movement caught all eyes as Isaiah's head turned to stare directly at them.

* * *

Sam was waiting for the knock at the door, while Dean worked at their laptop and Charlie thumbed through a few books. When it finally came and he answered, Sarah bustled in.

"Hey. You all right?"

Charlie and even Dean could see that answer coming.

"No, actually. I just lied to the cops and told them I went to Evelyn's alone and found her like that."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me. I'm about to call 'em right back if you don't tell me what the hell is going on. Who's killing these people?"

There was another exchange of loaded glances between the brothers.

"What," Sam finally stated, confusing the brunette.

"What?"

"It's not a who, it's a 'what' is killing those people. Sarah, you saw that painting move."

"No. No, I was seeing things. It's impossible."

"Welcome to our world," Dean interjected, earning a glare from his brother, who then turned back to explain.

"Sarah, I know this sounds crazy, but we think that painting is haunted."

"You're joking. ...You're not joking. God, the guys I go out with."

"Sarah, think about it - Evelyn, the Telescas. They both had the painting, and they have been others before that. Wherever this thing goes, people die, and we're just tryin' to stop it. And that's the truth."

Sarah sighed. "Well, then, I guess you better show me. I'm coming with you."

"What? No. Sarah, no, you should just go home. This stuff can get dangerous, and - " Sam stopped, struggling to find the words under Dean's understanding gaze, "and I don't want you to get hurt."

"Look, you guys are probably crazy, but if you're right about this - well, me and my dad sold that painting, we might have got these people killed. I'm not saying I'm not scared, 'cause I am scared as hell, but I'm not gonna run and hide, either." Sarah walked to the door, opening it as she turned to look back. "So, are we going or not?"

Charlie hid a smile when Sarah vanished out the door, already guessing what the general reaction would be as Dean called out to his brother, "Sam? Marry that girl."

* * *

Sarah was clearly uncomfortable with the idea of breaking back into Evelyn's house now that it had been declared a crime scene, even mentioning it once, leaving Charlie with the somewhat awkward realization that she was in fact growing accustomed to this life. Gradually, to be sure, but enough that the legality of walking back into the murder scene failed to occur to her. Coming to the decision that the painting seemed to do most of its damage at night, Sam decided tit was safe to take it down and study it up close, comparing it to the image copied from the book.

"What are you guys looking for?" Sarah finally asked.

"Well, if the spirit's changing aspects of the painting, maybe it's doing so for a reason."

Oddly enough, she didn't look particularly comforted by Dean's answer. But before she could voice her thoughts, it was discovered that a painting in the portrait had also been altered, from a peaceful mountain scene to a crypt or mausoleum bearing the Merchant name.

They found the mausoleum in the third cemetery they checked, entering the cobweb-filled chamber after quickly looking for observers. Sarah found herself drawn to a glass case built into the wall and containing a preserved doll.

"Okay, that right there is the creepiest thing I've ever seen, " Sarah announced at the same time Charlie wondered, "Is there any way we could cover that thing up?"

The Winchesters grinned at each other, then Sam explained, "It was sort of a tradition at the time. Whenever a child died, sometimes they'd preserve the kid's favorite toy in a case right next to the headstone in a crypt."

"You notice anything strange here?" Dean questioned suddenly.

The brunette gestured widely. "Where do I start?"

"No, that not what I mean. Look at the urns."

Charlie realized what he was hinting at. "There's only four."

"Yeah, Mom and the three kids. Daddy Dearest isn't here."

At his look, Sam spoke up. "So where is he?"

* * *

Dean and Charlie left Sam and Sarah in the park to use one of Dean's fake ids to gain access to records not available for public use. While they waited for the flustered woman at the desk to find Isaiah's death certificate - which would hopefully show what happened to his body - Charlie turned to her protector and poked him in the side.

"Hey!"

"You should probably back off a bit from Sam and Sarah."

He had the sense to look at least slightly shamed. "I know. But this kid, sometimes he needs to get shoved around. Do you really think Jessica would want him to be alone for her sake?"

"I don't know, I never met her. . But I don't think he's worried about betraying her memory, Dean. He's worried about what might happen to Sarah as a result of this life. I chose to travel with you, and I've got a pretty solid idea that it's gonna get me dead, which I've accepted. Sarah didn't."

He made a face as he considered it. "Maybe. But this job keeps you isolated enough that you really can't afford to do it yourself. Not without going off the deep end." Charlie made a decidedly noncommittal sound of agreement, while he paused to peer seriously at her. "And you know that I'll never let anything happen to you, tight?"

She wrapped her arms around his upper arm, hugging him close. "Anything is a very broad term. I trust that you'll do all you can to keep me safe, and that's all I expect."

He didn't look exactly thrilled by her response, despite dropping his head to one side in order to lightly rest it on hers, but the clerk finally came back, holding a piece of paper that suggested a successful search.

Sam and Sarah were having a fairly serious conversation of their own, judging from the long, serious look they were sharing before Dean's approach interrupted them. They denied it, of course, to no one's conviction.

"So what'd you get?"

Dean grinned. "Pay dirt." Reading from the pages they'd conned out of the county clerk, he explained, "Apparently, they surviving relatives of the Merchant family were so ashamed of Isaiah that they didn't want him interred with the rest of the family. So, they handed him over to the county. The county gave him a pauper's funeral - economy-style. Turns out he wasn't cremated, he was buried in a pine box."

"So, there are bones to burn?"

"There are bones to burn."

"Tell me you know where."

* * *

From what she could see, Charlie formed the opinion that digging up a body was back-breaking work, leaving her glad that she and Sarah were on flashlight duty. Sarah seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "You guys seem to be uncomfortably comfortable with this."

There was a laugh from below as Sam looked up at them. "Yeah, well, this isn't exactly the first grave we've dug. Still think I'm a catch?"

Dean hit the top of Isaiah's coffin, using the shovel to open it. Before long all four of them stood over the open grave as the brothers poured copious amounts of salt and gasoline into the hole. "You've been a real pain in the ass, Isaiah," Dean informed the corpse as he lit a match. "Good riddance." He tossed the match into the grave, and the quartet watched the flames build in silence.

* * *

They pulled back up to Evelyn's mansion, surprising both of the ladies. "Keep the motor running," Sam instructed his brother.

Meanwhile, Sarah leaned forward. "I thought the painting was harmless now."

"Better safe than sorry. We're gonna bury the sucker."

He got out of the car, and without a sign of hesitation, she was scrambling to follow. "I wanna come with you."

"You sure?"

Dean grabbed his attention quickly. "Hey, hey, hey. We'll stay here, you go make your move." Sam scoffed, partially distracted by the fact that Charlie was rather clumsily climbing over the seat to steal his spot. And Dean was letting her, despite the potential of damage to his precious Impala. "Sam," the elder Winchester insisted, "I'm serious."

Successfully fighting off the urge to role his eyes, Sam shut the door and started up the front steps with the brunette, stopping a moment later to turn back and glare when the car radio was turned on to blast a love song. At Dean's nonchalant shrug, he gestured for the music to be turned off. It was, albeit reluctantly, and the couple finally made it back into the house without any additional jabs.

Charlie propped her chin on the length of Dean's outstretched arm to watch them, seeming not to notice how close it moved her face to his. With his other hand, he began to brush stray hair from her cheek, drawing her attention back to him. And the front door slammed shut.

* * *

The front door was solid before, but as Dean slammed his shoulder into the wood, it occurred to him that there was no discernible give at all now.

"Dean! Hey! Is that you?" Sam's voice was muffled from inside the house, but they could still barely make it out.

"Yeah, you all right?" For a moment, there was no answer, muffled or not, then Dean's phone rang. He skipped a customary greeting, instead barking, "Tell me you slammed the front door."

"No, it wasn't me. I think it was the little girl."

Charlie's face told him that she didn't understand either. "The girl? What girl?"

"Yeah, she's out of the painting. I think it might have been her all along."

Dean made a face, concentrating. "Wasn't the dad lookin' down at her? Maybe he was tryin' to warn 'em."

"Hey, hey, hey, let's recap later, all right? Just get us out of here."

Dean bent down at the key hole again. "Well, I'm trying to pick the lock, but the door won't budge."

"Well, then, break it down."

"Okay, genius, let me grab my battering ram." Distracted by Dean's sarcasm, neither brother noticed Charlie's actions until she slammed her jacket-wrapped elbow into the window with enough force to shatter anything short of bullet-proof glass. Dean grabbed at her immediately, patting down her arm to check for anything broken as the other three stared blankly at the unmarred window. Whimpering as his hand hit an emerging bruise, Charlie made no effort to resist when he pulled her into his side.

"I appreciate the thought, Charlie," Sam yelled, "but Dean, the damn thing is comin'!"

"Well, you're gonna have to hold it off until I figure somethin' out. Get some salt or iron."

The two trapped inside took off as Dean pulled Charlie behind him, handed her his phone, and continued his efforts at the front door in sheer desperation. Sam and Sarah yelled back and forth, searching for anything to protect them, discovering an iron fireplace poker just in time to drive off the Merchant daughter's first attack.

"Sammy, you okay?" Dean reclaimed his phone, Charlie hovering anxiously at his side.

"Yeah, for now."

"How we gonna waste her?"

"I don't know. She was already cremated. There's nothing left to burn."

While the brothers continued, Sarah pulled at a thought just barely at the edge of her consciousness. "Sam, wait. We used to handle antique dolls at the auction."

"Well, that's fascinating, Sarah, but important right now?"

She scowled at him, continuing. "Well, back then, they used to make the dolls in the kid's image. I mean, everything, like they would use the kid's real hair."

"Dean? Sarah says the doll might have the girl's hair. Human remain - same as bones." There was a momentary pause before both Winchesters announced as one, "The mausoleum."

Dean hung up his phone and grabbed Charlie, pulling her with him to the Impala. The cemetery was a solid twenty-five minutes away, but they made it there in less than half that, not bothering to even slow as the car barreled through the closed gate and across the grass.

The couple rushed into the musty mausoleum, focused on destroying the doll. It took more work than either expected, however, Dean slamming the butt of his gun into the glass repeatedly until his actions dawned on him. Drawing Charlie to stand behind him, he used one hand to keep her snug against his back and the other to shoot at the case, finally breaking through. He handed off the doll to his companion, who took it reluctantly, holding it out as he struck his lighter beneath it. Again and again, as the flint refused to spark. Finally, just when the pair was about to panic, a flame ignited, immediately beginning to catch the doll's hair. They made sure it was burning, rotating the toy to burn in several spots, then Dean motioned for her to drop it as he pulled his cell phone back from his pocket.

There was another anxious several seconds, as they listened to the ringing and silently begged Sam to answer. Finally, he did. "Sam, you good?"

There was a slight pause, as Sam took in the mess around him. "Not bad."

Not bad at all.

* * *

Author's Note (#2) : Like I said. No excuse for how long this chapter took to get out. I'm not even sure I particularly like how it turned out (I know I hate the ending, but we agreed to disagree so I could attempt to move on). I'm not gonna make any promises about how long it will take the next chapter to show, but I'm already working on it, so here's to hopin', right?

Destiny's Darkness  
6-24-2010


	6. Chapter 6 : Meet the Father

**The Third Wheel**  
by Destiny's Darkness

* * *

_Disclaimer_: You might notice in watching Supernatural episodes that my name will never appear in any of the credits. There's a reason for that. My name is, however, on the tag on the back of Charlie's shirt.

_Author's Note_: So this chapter was well underway before I posted the last, which partially explains how I managed to get it out in less than 15 months. The next, however, has NOT been started, so I hope I can get it out in a reasonable time frame. Enjoy!

**

* * *

Chapter Six : Meet the Father

* * *

**

It was apparently a night of research and searching for new cases. The trio had made themselves comfortable at a spare table in the small diner. Dean was looking for potential hunts in a collection of newspapers while Sam did the same on his laptop. Charlie had been given an older stack of her own papers, a test Dean had devised when she came up with the idea of acting as an office manager of sorts, keeping an eye out for supernatural news and organizing their resources.

Dean finished his last page and set it down. "All right. Not a decent lead in all of Nebraska. What do you got?"

"Well," Sam glanced up to answer, "I've been scanning Wyoming, Colorado, South Dakota." He paused. "Here. A woman in Iowa fell ten thousand feet from an airplane and survived."

Charlie shook her head. "Poor thing. Didn't even scratch that flight stewardess' free fall record." When the brothers looked at her in surprise, she grinned. "What? I enjoy random trivia."

"She's right. That sounds more like 'That's incredible,' than, um, 'Twilight Zone'." Sam made some sound of agreement. "Hey, you know, we could just keep it in the east. New York, upstate. We could stop by and see Sarah again, huh?" He grinned, ignoring Charlie's elbow jabbing into his side. "She's a cool chick, man - smokin'." His whistle was interrupted by a grunt at another blow. "You two seemed pretty friendly. What do you say?"

Sam just laughed. "Yeah, maybe someday. But in the meantime, we've got a lot of work to do, Dean, and you know that."

"Yeah, you're right. What else you got?"

"Manning, Colorado - a local man by the name of Daniel Elkins was found mauled in his home."

"Elkins? I know that name."

Sam shrugged. ""Doesn't ring a bell." Sam continued to speak while Charlie passed Dean their father's leather bound journal.

"It sounds like the police don't know what to think. At first, they said it was some kind of bear attack, and now they found signs of robbery."

Charlie made a face. "Couldn't someone have found the aftermath of the bear attack and helped themselves? I mean, sometimes people suck."

Dean made a noncommittal sound of agreement before seeming to find what he looking for. "Here. Check it out." He tilted the book for Charlie to see, then handed it to Sam so they could both read the written phone number for a .

"You think it's the same Elkins?" Sam asked.

"It's a Colorado area code."

* * *

The Winchesters slipped into the Elkins' house, flashlights in hand, leaving Charlie to stay in the back seat of the Impala. And no real surprise - the house was fairly trashed, though Sam stopped by the door.

"Hey, there's salt over here - right inside the door."

Dean looked up. "You mean, like, protection-against-demons salt, or, uh, Oops-I-spilled-the-popcorn salt?

"It's clearly a ring. You think this guy, Elkins, was a player?"

"Definitely." Sam went to Dean, where he was looking through a familiar looking journal.

"That looks a hell of a lot like Dad's."

"Yeah, except this dates back to the sixties."

Dean pocketed the journal, thinking their new bookworm could take a look at it, and the brothers made their way into the man's office.

"Whatever attacked him, it looks like there was more than one."

Dean agreed. "It looks like he put up a hell of a fight, too." He found a box, empty but clearly designed to hold a pistol and a series of bullets, then several scratches carved into the wood floor caught his eye.

"You got something?" Sam questioned.

"I don't know. Just some scratches on the floor."

"Death throes, maybe?"

"Yeah, maybe." He swiped a piece of paper and a pencil from Elkins' desk, using them to create a rubbing of the impressions. "Or maybe a message." He handed it up to Sam. "Look familiar?"

"Three letters, six digits - the location and combination of a post office box. It's a mail drop."

"That's just the way Dad does it."

A few hours later, the Winchesters sat in the Impala, studying the letter addressed to 'J.W.'. "Think it's John Winchester?"

"I don't know," Dean admitted. "Should we open it?"

Sam's answer was interrupted by a loud knocking on the window, causing the two brothers in the front seat to jump, startled, and waking Charlie, who was curled up in the back with Dean's jacket tossed over her. Three sets of eyes snapped to the driver-side window, albeit one set a little more sluggishly, where an older man stood waiting.

"Dad?"

The man slid into the back seat, staring hard at the blonde pulling herself upright. "Who the hell are you?"

There was no mistaking the antagonistic tone to the question, even as Sam burst out with his own. "Dad, what are you doing here? Are you all right?"

"Yeah. I'm okay. Look, I read the news about Daniel. I got here as fast as I could I saw you two up at his place." He focused on Charlie again. "You I didn't see."

"This is Charlie," Sam interrupted. "Why didn't you come in, Dad?"

"You know why - because I had to make sure that you weren't followed, by anyone, or anything." Dean nodded in acknowledgment. "Nice job of covering your tracks, by the way. Other than this new habit of picking up strays."

Charlie was pretty sure she should be offended at the comment, but was really too intimidated to make the effort. Luckily, Dean and Sam took their cue from her lack of response. "Yeah, well, we learn from the best," Dean replied, trying to brush off the compliment and failing to entirely hide his pleasure.

"Wait," Sam spoke up, "so, you came all the way out here for this Elkins guy?"

Like the flip of a switch, John Winchester's threatening attitude vanished, an air of sadness taking its place. "Yeah. He was... he was a good man. He taught me a hell of a lot about hunting."

"You never mentioned him to us."

"We had, uh... we had kind of a falling out. I hadn't seen him in years." He gestured at the letter sitting forgotten in Dean's hands."I should look at that." The younger generation waited quietly while he opened and read it quickly. " 'If you're reading this, I'm already dead.' That son of a bitch."

"What is it?" Dean questioned hesitantly.

"He had it the whole time."

Charlie didn't feel particularly enlightened by the response, and judging by the equally blank faces, she wasn't simply missing out on a family inside story. Sam looked a little annoyed. "Dad, what?"

"When you searched the place, did you see a gun? An antique - a Colt revolver, did you see it?"

Dean thought back quickly. "Uh, there was an old case, but it was empty."

"They have it."

"You mean, whatever killed Elkins?"

"We've got to pick up the trail?" John gave Charlie another had look as he climbed back out, noting the small book and pen she'd grabbed.

Sam looked fairly stunned by such a quick change of events. "Wait. You want us to come with you?"

"If Elkins was telling t' the truth, we've got to find this gun."

"The gun? Why?"

"Because it's important, that's why."

"Dead, we don't even know what the things _are _yet."

"They were what Daniel Elkins killed best - vampires."

Dean interrupted. "Vampires? I thought there was no such thing."

"You never even mentioned them, Dad," Sam added.

"I though they were extinct. I thought Elkins and others had wiped them out." John paused to consider. "I guess I was wrong." He stopped speaking again, rubbing a hand over his eyes. "I guess we should find some place to crash for the night; nothing we can do until they make their next move. You boys found a motel yet?"

"No, sir."

John nodded to acknowledge the answer, then fixed dark eyes on the passenger in the back seat. "Is she coming?" There was no secret as to what he wanted the answer to be.

Dean surprised himself by rolling his eyes. "Dad, this is Charlie. Charlie's staying with us for a little while."

John grimaced at his concerns being confirmed, even as Charlie stretched a hand up through the front seat. "It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Winchester."

He ignored the offered handshake and turned his attention back to his sons. "There's a place with some vacancies aways up the road. We can crash there and work out some kind of plan."

* * *

Charlie couldn't sleep, though she liked to believe she was faking it reasonably well. Tucked into her sleeping bag - which was greeted by surprise and poorly disguised confusion by the elder Winchester - between Dean's bed and the wall, she listened to the faint murmur of John's walkie-talkie. She couldn't make out any of the words, but suddenly he snapped to attention.

"Sam, Dean, let's go." Charlie ignored the silver of envy as they popped awake. "Picked up a police call."

Sam pulled himself to a sitting position and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "What happened?"

"A couple called 911. They found a body in the street. Cops got there, everyone was missing. It's the vampires."

"How do you know?"

"Just follow me, okay?"

* * *

After talking to the police and determining a direction, they were on the road heading west. John had lent them one of his research books, with Dean was reading aloud from while Sam drove. "Vampires nest in groups of eight to ten. Smaller packs are sent to hunt for food. Victims are taken to the nest, where the pack keeps them alive, bleeding them for days or weeks. I wonder if that's what happened to that 911 couple."

"That's probably what Dad's thinking," Sam replied. "Of course, it would be nice if he just told us what he thinks."

"So it _is_ starting."

"What?"

"Sam, we've been looking for Dad all year. Now we're not with him for more than a couple of hours, and there's static already?"

Sam shot a glance to where Charlie was reading in the rear view mirror. "No. Look, I'm happy he's okay, alright? And I'm happy that we're all workin' together again."

"Good."

"It's just the way he treats us like we're children."

"Oh, god."

"He barks orders at us, Dean, he expects us to follow him without question. He keeps us on some crap need-to-know deal."

"He does what he does for a reason."

"What reason?"

"Our job! There's no time to argue, there's no margin for error, all right, it's just the way the old man runs - "

Sam interrupted, sounding fierce. "Yeah, well, maybe that worked when we were kids, but not any more, all right? Not after everything you and I have been through, Dean. I mean, are you tellin' me you're cool with must fallin' into line and lettin' him run the whole show?"

Dean paused, considering his brother's words carefully. "If that's what it takes."

Sam's angry reply was cut off by Dean's phone ringing, which grabbed Charlie's attention as well. "Hello?"

The silence stretched on for a long minute, while Charlie stretched herself alert, Dean listened to their father, and Sam fumed. Finally, "Yeah, Dad. All right, got it." Dean hung up and turned to direct his brother. "Pull off at the next exit."

"Why?"

"Because Dad thinks we've got the vampires' trail."

"How?"

"I don't know, he didn't say."

Dean's words caused an unusual reaction in his brother. Sam slammed his foot down on the gas pedal, causing the Impala to leap forward and charge their father's truck. As soon as they passed it a baffled John included, Sam yanked on the steering wheel to the right, cutting off their father as he screeched to a stop angled across the road. John mimicked his move, and when both cars were safely stopped, the two drivers leaped out, Dean and Charlie following a little slower. "Oh, crap," Dean muttered. "Here we go. Sam!"

John spoke up first. "What the hell was that?"

"We need to talk."

"About what?"

"About everything. Where we goin', Dad? What's the big deal about this gun?"

Dean stepped forward, trying to stop the fight before it picked up any real steam. "Sammy, come on, we can Q and A after we kill all the vampires."

Sam rolled his eyes at the expected lack of support form his brother as his father rumbled, "Your brother's right."

Charlie sort of tuned out, having already predicted exactly how this conversation would go. Sam would demand information about what the hell was going on, his father would stonewall him, and Dean would play peacemaker in support of John. It wasn't until Sam started to turn away, muttering something, that her attention snapped back.

"What did you just say?" The dangerous tone to his voice was clear even before Dean stepped in front of her, clearly trying to block her from the older man's vision and his wrath.

Sam didn't seem to care. "You heard me."

"That's right. You left. You left and your brother and I needed you."

"You were the one who told me not to come back - "

From the side, Charlie could tell this argument was about to go somewhere they would both regret her overhearing when they cooled down. So she reached forward and squeezed Dean's hand. "Stop them."

The thought had clearly already occurred to him. He squeezed back almost immediately and stepped between them. "Hey! This is not the time or the place for this! Vampires, remember? So we get to wherever we're going, then you can battle this out there if it's that important."

The combatants glared at each other for a moment longer before retreating to their respective vehicles. Dean turned back to where he left Charlie, only to find her climbing into the passenger seat of his father's truck in the face of the man's utter surprise. "Charlie!"

She waved him on. "We're all going to the same place, right?"

"Yeah, but..." He trailed off when she shut the door on his response, which was almost a good thing, seeing as he didn't actually know how to express his concerns that his father would scare her away.

But inside the truck, Charlie felt a hell of a lot more uncertain than she was trying to let on.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Ignoring the solid impression of a growl, she held out her hand. "Hi, I'm Charlie."

John had instinctively returned the offered handshake before his frown made her shrink back just slightly. "Charlie doesn't answer the question of what you think you're doing."

"No, sir." With a pause, she gestured to the Impala in front of them. "I think they're waiting for you to take the lead again." His frown darkened, but the truck pulled out.

The black car behind them was nearly as tense. "I can't believe I'm putting up with this again."

"Just deal with it, man. You, you don't think Dad would be really rough on her, would he?"

"What?" For the first time, Sam checked the backseat, and his voice grew nervous. "Where's Charlie?"

* * *

Dean was at her side opening the door for her before she'd even unlatched her seat belt. "You okay?"

John scowled at his oldest son. "It's not like I'd shoot her, at least not in the car."

Unsurprisingly not comforted by the statement, he helped her down and held her hand a few moments longer than necessary. "You okay?" he repeated.

"I'm fine, Dean," she answered as John walked around the far side of the truck. "We spent the whole ride in awkward silence. Sort of. I would try to start a conversation, and he would ignore me. He did want to know how long I've been hunting." She grinned, if weakly. "I told him not as long as you all."

She managed to get trick a small, quick smile out of him.

"So what's the next step?" Sam asked, though no one missed his concerned glance at their tagalong.

"For the long of..." their father exploded. "What kind of abusive jerk do you two take me for?"

"Not at all," Charlie answered before either brother could say something to further tick him off. "They just seem to think I'm some kind of wilting flower."

"Yeah. So what's the next step?"

John wasn't particularly appeased. "We check out the nest."

Dean led Charlie back to the Impala, equipping her with the knife he left with her every time she stayed behind. "Hey, dad, anything good for protection against these things?"

"No that I have on me. But we won't be long." He watched as Dean and Sam both checked on her one more time before the Winchesters headed out. They picked their way through the rather thick forest for several minutes before John finally spoke up. "So, what's her story?"

"Her family died a few years ago, leaving her all alone. We met up with her a few weeks back when she was trying to deal with some sort of aggressive spirit."

"In Chicago."

"Yeah." Sam trailed off, exchanging a loaded look with Dean. "How did you know?"

"I saw the article too. A couple of us did."

"So why didn't you go to help?"

"Looked a lot like a trap. A story like that, making such a splash? It happens sometimes. Something escapes a hunter and holds a grudge, so it sets up a situation to lure the hunter in unsuspecting."

"Well, it wasn't a trap," Dean spoke up.

"What was it?"

Another quick glance. "We haven't figured it out yet. It gets its kicks by playing nasty tricks on her, but it seems almost frightened of us."

"Convenient." Before either could question that statement, he continued. "So why is she with you now?"

"Well," Dean looked embarrassed, "we couldn't figure out what it was, and it was starting to get dangerous. It didn't make sense to hang around for who knows how long gathering information."

"I don't suppose it occurred to either of you that there were better ways of dealing with that situation than inviting her to go with you."

"Well, of course there were other options. We could have introduced her to some different protections or relocated her to a hunter, like Bobby, who mainly stays in one play. But you taught us to trust our instincts, and both of them were saying she should come with us."

That comment didn't seem to make their father any happier, but they'd reached the area they were looking for. As the rising sun began to grow stronger, they began to gather information.

* * *

Charlie waited, leaning against the Impala with Dean working under the hood, doubting the wisdom of volunteering to help out with this particular bit of brilliance. The Winchesters had gone into the nest while the bloodsuckers were sleeping, getting an idea of what to expect inside as well as apparently letting the monsters get a good whiff of their scent. John explained that the vampires would be able to follow that scent as long as they lived. Sending Dean off to a funeral home for something, they retreated to the motel room, where John had tried to explain himself to his youngest son. Charlie had pretended she wasn't there but wished he had waited for Dean.

"I never wanted this life for you," he'd confessed, explaining about the college funds he'd started the day of their births, "but I got so focused on revenge after we lost your mother that I stopped being your father. I became your drill sergeant."

Dean arrived back not long after, with a jar of something Charlie didn't want to know about. And John explained about the Colt. It was created for a hunter, and legend said it could kill anything, even the monster that killed their mother.

The weapon clearly couldn't be left in the hands of the vampires, which led to their current plan. The creatures had Dean's scent, but not hers. They were hoping that having her there would keep their trap from being quite so obvious.

"It's okay, Charlie," Dean spoke up, leaning around the front of the car to look at her directly. "There's no reason to be nervous."

"No reason? I'm in the woods in the dark with the possibility of dangerous creatures."

He grinned at her snarkiness and winked. "Well, besides that."

Suddenly they weren't alone.

"Car trouble?" the annoyingly lovely woman called out as she walked up to them, a silent bodyguard behind her. "I could give you a lift. Maybe we could head back to my place, and Hank could keep your... little friend entertained."

"Thanks," Dean drawled, "but we're not really into necrophilia."

She responded with a fist to his face, sending him sprawling. Charlie moved to go to him, only to be stopped by a meaty hand, forcing her to stand on her toes to relieve the pulling.

The woman reached down and mimicked the movement with Dean, fingers wrapped around his throat. Before she could get into the really impressive threats though, an arrow embedded itself in each of their captors' chests, followed closely by the appearance of Sam and John.

The woman smirked. "That almost stings."

"Just wait a moment," John advised. "That arrow's been soaked in dead man's blood. That's like poison to you, right?"

Near the end of John's first sentence, Charlie felt the hand in her hair lose some of its strength. By the time he finished speaking, she was able to slip free and out of the way. She watched as the female vampire tried to issue one last ineffective threat before collapsing.

Charlie's captor fought against the poison a little harder and more successfully, perhaps due to his larger body mass, but it didn't do him much good. Sinking to his knees, he could only watch as the senior Winchester approached with a wicked-looking blade. With one swing, John effectively beheaded the creature and covered Charlie in the splatter of its blood.

"Charlie!"

Dropping the arm that shielded her face, she refused to respond to Dean and studied the body curiously. "What do we do with the leftovers?"

John couldn't help the tug of a smile. She wasn't weak. If she was, she'd be screaming like a banshee, but she wasn't. She wasn't weak."We'll take them with us to burn at a safer location."

"Cleanup is a lot less gross in the Hollywood versions."

"Dean finished binding the other vamp and approached, laying a firm hand on her shoulder and a dirty glare on his father. "You okay?"

"Dean, I was raised in a society extremely alarmed about AIDS. I'm trying really hard not completely freak out."

He started to pull her toward the Impala. "Let's get you cleaned up."

"No. I'll be okay long enough to finish up here." She dropped her voice and stepped closer. "Your father already dislikes me. I'd rather not give him more ammunition." Turning back to John, "So, let's get this thing packed up."

* * *

The burning herbs added a fairly unpleasant taste to the air around them. Charlie stood across the small bonfire from their unconscious captive, trying not to think about the thick liquid still drying on her face and arms.

She was vaguely aware of Dean rummaging in his bag somewhere nearby, while Sam and John had gone a few miles away to burn the dead vampire, leaving the two to keep an eye on everything else.

"Hey," she heard suddenly, startling her. Dean grinned and held out a hand. "Come here a minute." When she obeyed, he held up a damp towel. "Can't do anything about your clothes, but we can still clean you up a little." She moved to take the cloth from him, but he just grabbed her hand and pulled it out of his way as he began to clean her face with long, soft strokes. "I'm sorry he's being so rough on you. That bit with the blood was real nasty."

She shrugged, eyes closed under his attentions, which had certainly made the apology easier to get out. "It's not that big of a deal."

"Charlie, the man covered you in vampire blood."

"I didn't say it was particularly pleasant. But it's not all that surprising either. Your dad's just worried about you two."

"Yeah, and he's taking it out on you."

"It's _because_ of me. You've gotta know how he feels about me traveling with you. At best, I'm some idiot civilian who's gonna distract you at the wrong moment and get one or both of you killed. At worst, I'm some sort of plant who's leading you all into a trap."

Dean pulled back. "Figured all that out on your own?"

"I was working on a psychology minor in college. I notice things."

The corner of his mouth quirked up in a grin and her resumed his movements. "You know, you were talking about Hollywood earlier? They should see this stuff - it's like syrup."

She reached out and punched him in the shoulder. "Seriously, Dean. You're gonna make me sick."

"Nah, you're tougher than that." He finished with her face and poured more water on the towel to start on her arms."

After a number of passes along her skin, slowly driving Charlie out of her mind with his single-minded focus, Dean finished up and tossed the towel toward the fire, choosing to sit next to her and watch their captive in silence.

John and Sam finally returned, and their father threw a bundle of something into Dean's lap. "Toss that on the fire. Saffron, skunks, cabbage, and trillium - it'll block our scent and hers until we're ready."

Dean obeyed, offering up the comment of, "Stuff stinks."

"Well, that's the idea. Dust your clothes with the ashes, and you'll stand a chance of not being detected."

Charlie frowned. "Won't they notice this smell coming at them?"

"No. There's something about the combination that they block it out. Just don't notice it."

"Are you sure they'll come after her?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. Vampires mate for life. She means more to the leader than the gun. But the blood sickness is gonna wear off soon. So you don't have a lot of time."

"Half hour ought to do it," Sam agreed.

John continued, "And then I want you out of the area as fast as you can."

"But - "

Dean interrupted his brother. "Dad, you can't take care of all of them yourself."

"I'll have her and the Colt," John argued. "And you have to look after... Charlie here."

Dean's eyes narrowed, and Charlie grew suspicious, but Sam didn't pick up on the hint. "But after," he pressed, "we're gonna meet up right? Use the gun _together_, right?" John stayed quiet, eyes locked with his younger son's. "You're leaving again, aren't you? You still want to go after the demon alone? You know, I don't get you. You can't treat us like this."

John looked offended. "Like what?"

"Like children."

"You _are_ my children. I'm trying to keep you safe."

Dean replied before Sam could say something stupid. "Dad, all due respect, but that's a bunch of crap." Both men turned to stare at him in shock, neither able to remember the last time he spoke to his father like that.

"Excuse me?" John managed.

"You know what Sammy and I have been huntin'. Hell, you sent us on a few huntin' trips yourself. You can't be that worried about keeping us safe."

John shook his head. "It's not the same thing, Dean."

"Then what is it? Why do you want us out of the big fight?"

"This demon? It's a bad son of a bitch. I can't make the same moves if I'm worried about keeping you alive."

"You mean you can't be as reckless."

"Look... I don't expect to make it out of this fight in one piece. Your mother's death - it nearly killed me. I can't watch me children die, too. I won't."

"What happens if you die?" Charlie asked, looking just as surprised as the others at her interruption, but not the least bit regretful. "What would your sons be left to deal with if you die and they know they might have been able to do something about it?"

Dean nodded in agreement. "You know, I've been thinkin' - I think maybe Sammy's right on this one. I think we should do this together." This time Sam nodded. "We're stronger as a family, Dad. We just are. You know it."

John was already shaking his head in refusal. "We're running out of time," he insisted, effectively putting an end to the conversation. "You do your job, and you get out of the area. That's an order."

He walked away abruptly, entirely conscious of the three sets of eyes focused on his back.

* * *

Sam and Dean cleaned their blades while Charlie worked on calming down the group of people who'd been considered food until only minutes before. The brothers had gone into the nest after the vampires took John's bait, four of them leaving in a hurry. They took care of the two guards left behind and freed the captives, taking a moment for some decisions.

"We're not letting him go off without us again, are we?" Sam questioned.

Dean shook his head. "Not this time. Charlie, you got this?"

She looked over from where she was loading the last victim into the van their captors conveniently left behind. "Sure. I'm gonna drive them to the nearest hospital, tell whoever's in charge that they were kidnapped by a bunch of psychos pretending to be vampires, then slip away when their backs are turned."

"We'll meet you at the motel."

They waited long enough to see Charlie pull herself behind the driver's wheel and head toward town, then turned the Impala toward the clearing John had earmarked as a good location for the exchange. About a half mile from the meet, they parked the car and ran the rest of the way with crossbows, arrows soaked in dead man's blood, and some big ass blades, arriving just in time to see their father crumple to the ground, seemingly unconscious. Without even slowing, they simultaneously loaded their crossbows and fired. The arrows hit their mark and the boys fired again, finally getting close enough for some hand-to-hand. The leader of the vampires hit Sam, choking him in a move than seemed popular among the blood-suckers. Dean drew his knife.

"Don't!" The vampire hollered. "I'll break his neck. Put the blade down."

His brother froze, knife clenched tight in midair, as he struggled to figure out his options. Dean had a great amount of experience with battles, with making decisions on the fly with no good choices, but putting his brother in the middle of it never failed to cause self-doubt. And the vampire clearly had Sam in a perilous position, fist clenched around his throat forcing him to gasp for meager amounts of air. After what felt like eons and what was probably mere seconds, the shorter man acknowledged that he, in fact, had no options. The knife hit the ground, and he attempted to make himself look as harmless as possible, not an easy trick for a man who typically relied on appearing as threatening as possible.

"You people," the vampire snarled in a magnificently offended manner, "why can't you just leave us alone? We have as much right to live as you do."

Another voice interrupted, a voice that had been forgotten in the chaos. "I don't think so," John Winchester quipped.

The vampire turned, effectively turning Sam as well, and John fired the Colt, a perfect shot in the middle of the monster's forehead. A single trickle of blood flowed from the hole as he collapsed to his knees, releasing Sam in the process.

The former captive, Kate, screamed. "Luther!"

Luther failed to react, a flash of light flowing through his figure as though he had been electrocuted. Then that something that identifies a life form as alive fled from his eyes, and the creature died. Kate began to stalk toward John, enraged beyond the point of reason, when another vampire stopped her with a, "Kate, don't!" The two remaining females fled to their car and away.

The Winchester boys stared at their father in shock, where he stood with a triumphant smile.

* * *

Back in the motel room, the younger generation packed their belongings as John entered their room. Charlie gave him a nervous smile, still feeling a slight thrill at successfully performing her part of the night, as she slipped past him through the door to put her belongings in the Impala.

John waited until the door closed behind her, then began, "So, boys..."

The trio met each other in the middle of the room. "Yes, sir," Sam answered respectfully.

"You ignored a direct order back there."

"Yes, sir."

"But we saved your ass," Dean pointed out, much to his brothers surprise.

"You're right," the older man admitted.

"I am?"

"It scares the hell out of me. You two are all I've got. But I guess we are stronger as a family. So... we go after this damn thing - together."

"Yes, sir." His sons spoke as one. The family shared a knowing look, each mentally preparing for the danger in their future, the conversation over.

Except...

"But, really, does the girl have to go?"

* * *

Destiny's Darkness  
7-06-2010


	7. Chapter 7 : Confronting Demons

**The Third Wheel**  
by Destiny's Darkness

* * *

_Disclaimer_: See previous chapters for disclaimers.

_Author's Note_: So between classes and NaNoWriMo, I haven't had a whole lot of time to work on this. Still, I think it came out okay. It hasn't been checked over closely since before November, but I think it's in good shape, even with the weird P.o.V. focus thing I did toward the end that I should fix but I really like. If you see anything, let me know. I don't have a single word of the next chapter written yet, so unfortunately don't expect it any time soon. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Seven : Confronting Demons**

* * *

Charlie and the Winchesters took a moment of silence to appreciate their surroundings, John's motel room in particular. Newspaper clippings, photos, and maps decorated every available wall and surface, with books and piles of papers stacked on the various tables. Charlie spun in a circle, taking it all in, as John gestured around and seated himself at the tiny desk.

"So," he finally spoke up, a careful eye on his boys as they studied his research, "this is it. This is everything I know. Look, our whole lives we've been searching for this demon, right?" Abruptly, the lone female realized the question and explanation was directed subtly toward her. "And not a trace, just nothing... until a year ago. For the first time, I picked up a trail."

"That's when you took off," Dean spoke up, clearly listening even as he read an article about cattle deaths.

"Yeah, that's right. The demon must have come out of hiding or hibernation."

"All right, so, what's this trail you found?"

John shifted in his chair, getting quickly down to business. "It started in Arizona, then New Jersey, California - houses burning to the ground. It's going after families... just like it went after us."

Sam spoke up. "Families with infants?"

"Yeah." John noticed Charlie had pulled out her spiral-bound notebook, jotting down notes. "The night of the kid's six-month birthday."

Sam reacted as though he'd gotten knife shoved into his gut. "I was six months old that night?"

"Exactly six months."

Charlie may not have known him since birth, but she'd spent enough time living with Sam to see the guilt wrapping around him. "So basically, this demon in goin' after these kids for some reason - the same way it came after me. So, Mom's death, Jessica - it's all 'cause of me?"

Dean had seen it coming as well. "We don't know that, Sam."

"Oh, really? 'Cause I'd say we're pretty damn sure, Dean."

"For the last time, what happened to them is not your fault."

"Yeah, you're right, it's not my fault, but it's my problem!"

John stopped the argument quickly. "Okay. That's enough." He stood in the momentary quiet, taking a few steps toward his younger son and eying his tortured expression. Dean sat on the bed next to Charlie, just close enough that their thighs were touching.

After a few seconds, Sam's posture loosened as he took a breath and released some of his frustration. "So, why is it doing this? What does it want?"

John sighed. "Look, I wish I had more answers. I do. I've always been one step behind it. Look, I've never gotten there in time to save..." He trailed off, offering Charlie her first glimpse of something other than the gruff and driven military man following some high calling's orders.

Before both of his family members could be lost to guilt, Dean spoke up. "All right, so, how do we find it before it hits again?"

"There's signs," John answered, giving himself a mental shake. "Look, it took me a while to see the pattern, but in the days before these fires, signs crop up in an area - cattle deaths, temperature fluctuations, electronic storms. And then I went back and checked, and..."

"These things happened in Lawrence."

John nodded, solemn face betraying no sign of the pride he felt at Dean's quick mind and ability to follow John's thought patterns. "The week before your mother died." He looked at Sam. "And in Palo Alto... before Jessica. And these signs - they're starting again."

"Where?"

"Salvation, Iowa."

"Well," Dean decided, climbing to his feet, "let's get on the road."

John's eyes focused on Charlie and back away quickly, but no one missed it.

"Dad," Dean began, but his father interrupted.

"I know she's been helpful in the past, but it's not a good idea for her to come with us."

"Well, we're not leaving her behind."

"Do you understand just how dangerous this is? This thing already killed your mother." He paused, giving the girl in question a long once-over. "And Charlie presents a lot of risk."

"Risk?" Dean parroted, stunned by the accusation. He took a few steps in his father's direction, unconsciously placing himself in front of the blonde.

The man was already tightly wound, but the protective movement caused his face to darken even further. Sam jumped in quickly. "Dad, I know you don't know her that well, but we do. Charlie can help, and she's smart enough to know when she's out of her league." Charlie stayed quiet, eyes wide, as they began arguing in earnest. She knew John Winchester didn't particularly care for her - the quick, suspicious glances she'd noticed told her that much - but she never considered the idea that he thought she was dangerous. When the voices began to grow louder, the fight building in intensity, she managed to find her voice. "Is there a middle ground?"

John bit off the sarcastic comment he was about to make regarding Dean's shaky judgement of a few particular women in the past, a comment he already knew he would regret, and faced the interloper. "Middle ground? Like what, leaving you tied up in a hotel room?"

"Well, not tied up," she began, wincing, knowing perfectly well that he had little to no interest in keeping her around. "But I could help out with research, and fetch food, and all kinds of menial tasks until we've figured out what's going on. Then you can put me on a bus to elsewhere."

He looked like he was considering the idea, despite his sons' displeasure, then scowled. "Fine. We'll figure out what to do with you when we get there."

* * *

The small caravan had just entered the limits of Salvation when the lead truck pulled off the side of the road, the Impala following closely behind. And as soon as both vehicles were stopped, John left his and slammed his door behind him.

"Damn it," he quietly swore, thoughts stuck on the just ended phone call, as the younger generation climbed out of their car.

"What it is?" Dean asked.

"Son of a bitch!"

"What is it?"

"I just got a call from Caleb."

"Is he okay?"

"He's fine. Jim Murphy is dead."

"Pastor Jim?" Sam spoke up, sounding younger than normal. "How?"

"Throat was slashed - he bled out." Both boys jerked slightly, stunned, and Dean instinctively reached a hand backward in search of Charlie's, squeezing tightly when she stepped forward to grab it and his father continued. "Caleb said they found traces of sulfur at Jim's place."

"The demon," Dean supplied, and he received a slight nod in response. "The demon?"

"I don't know. Could be he just got careless, he slipped up. Maybe the demon knows we're gettin' close."

"What do you want to do?"

"Now we act like every second counts. There's two hospitals and a health center in this county. We split up, we cover more ground. I want records. I want a list of ever infant that's gonna be six months old in the next week."

"Dad," Sam interrupted, "that could be dozens of kids. How the hell are we gonna know which one's the right one?"

"We'll check 'em all, that's how. You got any better ideas?"

Sam considered his options briefly before conceding, "No, sir."

The conversation was apparently over. The group moved to get back in their cars, but John simply stopped when he faced his truck. "Dad?" Dean called out.

He didn't respond for a moment, then turned to face them again. "Yeah... it's Jim. You know, I can't ..." He trailed off, openly pained by the death, and Dean pulled Charlie a little bit closer. She locked eyes across the car roof with Sam, his face troubled as well. "This ends. Now. I'm ending it. I don't care what it takes."

* * *

Dean paced, stalking back and forth in their new motel room as Charlie sorted through the copies of birth certificates they'd collected from the health center in addition to the ones John brought back from one of the hospitals. "Well, these four are out," she spoke up, dropping the papers in question into the trash can. "Three of them have moved out of town and the fourth died of birth defects at two months old."

The older man hefted an expressive eyebrow, rising from his own papers to look at the compiled list she was working on. He nodded in acknowledgement of her efforts, then changed the subject with an eye on his already anxious son. "So I was thinking you could go stay with Bobby when this all goes down. Sam could take you to the bus station when he gets back from the other hospital. It's only a few hours away, and he might even be able to figure out what's been plaguing you."

He'd spoken quietly to avoid attracting Dean's attention. Nonetheless, the younger man spun around and aimed a dirty look at his father. "No. She's not going anywhere. If the demon is aware that we're getting close, we're not leaving her defenseless and exposed in some bus station."

John looked annoyed, but Charlie spoke up before he could explode. "It's okay, Dean. I came up with the idea in the first place, after all, and you don't need me in your way when you all are going after this thing."

Clearly, Dean was not 'okay' with the idea. However, before he could argue the topic, Sam arrived, out of breath and clutching his head in pain.

* * *

"A vision?" John repeated, seated on the end of one of the double beds. Dean had taken the other bed's end, and they both watched as Charlie fussed over Sam where he sat at a table, massaging his temples for him and applying cold, wet cloths to his forehead.

"Yes," the younger son answered, resigned to the disbelief coming though still frustrated. "I saw the demon burning a woman on the ceiling."

"And you think it's gonna happen to this woman you met because...?"

"Because these things happen," he insisted, "exactly the way I see them."

"It started out as nightmares," Dean added, "and then he started havin' them when he was awake." He rose from his seat and moved to the little kitchenette on the other side of the room, keeping his worried focus on both Sam and Charlie. They'd managed to keep her in the dark about the visions to this point, and he couldn't really predict what her reaction would be once she finished tending to his brother.

"Yeah. It's like the closer I get to anything involving the demon, the stronger the visions get."

"All right," his father decided, accepting the knowledge for now as his sons' little friend crouched in front of his youngest's chair and began to work at the pressure points in his hands, "when were you gonna tell me about this?"

Dean's eyes widened at the vehemence in the question. "We didn't know what it meant."

"All right, something like this starts happening to your brother, you pick up the phone, and you call me."

The accusation set something off in Dean. "Call you? Are you kiddin' me? Dad, I called you from Lawrence, all right? Sam called you when I was _dying_." At that, Sam noticed Charlie's hands tighten on his own, her only visible reaction to that tidbit of information. "Gettin' you on the phone - I've got a better chance of winning the lottery."

John paused, the quiet tense as he considered his son's words. "You're right. Although I'm not real crazy about this new tone of yours, you're right. I'm sorry." He eyed the blond pest. "I suppose I can blame you for that."

"Dad!" Both brothers spoke up, the annoyed, warning tone in each voice making them hard to distinguish from each other.

He held up his hands defensively. "I was just joking." He wasn't, not entirely, but no one called him on it.

"Look, guys," Sam brought them all back on topic, "visions or no visions, the fact is, we know the demon is coming tonight. And this family's gonna go through the same hell we went through."

"No, they're not." John argued. "No one is, ever again."

At that moment, Sam's cell phone rang. He waited a moment, obviously debating about interrupting such an important conversation, but he knew it could be someone calling for help or with information. "Hello? ...Who is this?"

The person's response on the other end shocked him. "Meg. Last time I saw you, you fell out of a window." All three men stood together, just barely able to hear the old threat's voice coming through the earpiece.

"_Yeah, thanks to you. That really hurt my feelings, by the way._"

Charlie looked up at her protector, asking silently about what the strange female meant, but Dean only wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled him into his side, ignoring John's pointed glance. "Just your feelings?" Sam questioned. "That was a seven-story drop."

"_Let me speak to your dad._"

"My dad - I don't know where my dad is."

"_It's time for the grownups to talk, Sam. Let me speak to him, now._" There was a moment of reluctant indecision, then Sam allowed his father to take the phone from his fingers.

"This is John."

"_Howdy, John. I'm Meg. I'm a friend of your boys. I'm also the one who watched Jim Murphy choke on his own blood._" John looked pained at the bragging, as though fighting off tears, while Dean reacted by pulling Charlie in front of him and moving his arm from her waist to across the front of her shoulders, tugging her back against his chest. She couldn't quite tell if he was trying to protect her from the voice in the phone or if she was providing comfort for the words it spoke. "_Still there, John boy?_"

"I'm here."

"_Well, that was yesterday. Today, I'm in Lincoln... visiting another old friend of yours. He wants to say hi._"

Another voice came through the speakers, scared but in control. "_John, whatever they do, don't give -_ "

The new voice was cut off quickly, but it was enough for Dean's hold to tighten. "Caleb?" John replied. "Caleb. You listen to me. He's got nothing to do with anything. You let him go."

It was Meg's voice that answered. "_We know you have the Colt, John._"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"_Oh. Okay. So, listen to this._" A cry rose and was cut off quickly, gagging following for a few moments before fading off.

"Caleb? Caleb!" Until John began to panic, Charlie hadn't quite understood what she was listening to. The realization that she'd just listened to a man die left her stunned. Just what had she gotten herself into? Yes, her tormentor's tricks had grown cruel and even dangerous, but this was death for the simple reason of making an impression, of making a point. This was something taken from the minds of Hollywood, and it should have stayed there.

If Dean had not been clutching her so tightly, she doubted her wobbling knees would have supported her. He swore under his breath, gripping her shoulders to turn her away from the middle of their circle and tucking her into his side where she hid her face in his chest. Fragments of thought darted about in her mind: accusations of stupidity and worst case scenarios swirling as she mentally retreated into herself. She was vaguely aware of the phone conversation continuing, of the nightmare on the other end demanding for John to bring them the Colt, the gun that they stole from the vampires and that could kill Mary Winchester's murderer, of threats and taunts and finally John agreeing to meet her along with the Colt to stop more of his friends from being slaughtered. When she felt Dean lowering her to sit on the bed, with no memory of moving toward it, Charlie took control of herself, pushing the fear and hysterics to the back of her mind where she could deal with it later when she had some privacy.

Eyes focusing, she found Dean crouching in front of her, a hand on her cheek as he studied her. "Hey. You okay?"

"Firmly in Denial Land, but I'm okay for now." He started to say something else but took another look at her expression and decided to stay quiet.

"So, you think Meg is a demon?" Sam asked their father, who shrugged.

"Either that or she's possessed by one. It doesn't really matter."

"What do we do?"

"I'm going to Lincoln."

"What?"

"It doesn't seem like I have a choice. If I don't go, a lot of people die. Our friends die."

"Dad, the demon is coming tonight for Monica and her family. That gun is all we've got. You can't just hand it over."

John looked insulted by the mere suggestion he would comply with the Meg-demon's demands. "Who said anything about handing it over? Look, besides us and a couple of vampires, no one's really seen the gun. No one knows what it looks like."

"So, what," Dean questioned, his tone incredulous, "you're just gonna pick up a ringer at a pawn shop?"

"Antique store."

"You're gonna hand Meg a fake gun and hope she doesn't notice?"

"Look, as long as it's close, she shouldn't be able to tell the difference."

Both voices grew louder. "Yeah, but for how long? What happens when she figures it out?"

"I just -" The aggression in John's voice vanished abruptly. "I just need to buy a few hours, that's all."

"You mean for Dean and Charlie and me," Sam clarified, examining his father's face when he didn't answer. "You want us to stay here... and kill this demon by ourselves?"

"No, Sam. I want to stop losing people we love. I want you to go to school. I want Dean to have a home." He turned away from three sets of eyes, but there was no hiding his tears. "I want Mary alive." He face them again, ignoring their own emotional reactions to his words. "I just... I just want this to be over."

The brothers locked eyes, doing that silent exchange of information that both fascinated and annoyed Charlie.

"Charlie and I will get the ringer," Dean announced. "We'll meet you outside town for the exchange."

* * *

Two antique shops and an earnest story about looking for the stolen half of an antique gun set later, the Impala pulled up to John and Sam on an empty road. The other pair got out of the black muscle car to match. Charlie leaned against the hood as Dean walked to his father's truck, where he and Sam were getting weapons ready.

"You get it?" John asked. Dean pulled a package from his jacket as his answer, handing it over.

He waited a moment, while his father examined the duplicate he was trusting his life on, then spoke up. "You know this is a trap, don't you? That's why Meg wants you to come alone."

"I can handle her. I got a whole arsenal loaded - holy water, Mandaic amulets -"

"Dad..." Dean interrupted.

"What?"

"Promise me something."

"What's that?"

"This thing goes south, just get the hell out." The oldest son paused, finding the words. "Don't get yourself killed, all right? You're no good to us dead."

John nodded. "Same goes for you. All right, listen to me." He pulled the real Colt out of his coat pocket. "They made the bullets special for this gun. There's only four of 'em left. Without 'em, this gun is useless. You make ever shot count."

"Yes, sir," Sam agreed, unable to fight the instinctive response despite all the years he'd denied his upbringing.

"I've been waiting a long time for this fight. Now it's here, and I'm not gonna be in it. It's up to you boys, you kids, now. It's your fight. You finish this. You finish what I started. You understand?" His sons nodded, and he handed the Colt, the real Colt, to Dean.

As Dean secured it safely in his jacket, Charlie spoke up. "Wait, 'you kids'? Does that mean I'm not getting shipped off anymore?"

"No," John answered before Dean could get upset. "We 'ship you off' with everything going on, and my boys will be distracted. They've taken you into their protection, and if you're off where they can't keep an eye on you, they're gonna worry about you and their minds won't be on the job. This is the one job they can't lose focus on." There was no mistaking the hint of annoyance in his words, nor his sons' embarrassment at them. "So I guess we're stuck with you for a while."

"We'll see you soon, Dad," Sam spoke up confidently, getting a smile and a nod in return.

"I'll see you later."

* * *

If there was one thing Charlie hated about helping hunt, it was stakeouts. Sitting still had never held much appeal for her, and in the last few years the act had become nearly unbearable. It was easier to keep going, keep moving. But you couldn't do that in a stakeout, at least not a Winchester-style stakeout. The supernatural was subtle until it struck, and they couldn't risk missing something important. So the three of them would sit, Dean's music playing quietly, occasionally breaking the conversational silence, each getting a little lost in their own thoughts.

"Maybe we can tell them there's a gas leak," Sam spoke up, watching the lights in the house turn on and off as Monica, the demon's future victim, moved about before joining her husband. "Might get 'em out of the house for a few hours."

Dean shot him an amused look. "Yeah, and how many times has that actually worked for us?"

That momentarily defeated the taller man before, "We could always tell them the truth."

"Nah."

"You'd probably get the police called on us," Charlie pointed out, leaning forward to prop her chin on the seatback between the two.

"I know, I know, I know. I just - with what's coming for these people -"

Dean cut him off quickly. "Sam, we've only got one move, and you know it. We've got to wait for that demon to show itself, and then we get it before it gets them."

"But don't we have another option?" Charlie interrupted. "Sam, in your vision, the demon was focused on the baby's cradle, right? What if I -"

"Don't even think about it." Dean's command ripped out at the same time as Sam's definite "No." They traded glances before Sam continued. "Charlie, you're becoming part of this family. And this demon has shown it likes killing off women important to us."

"Hell," Dean added, "you're not even leaving the Impala when this goes down."

She almost considered arguing but knew it would be useless, so she conceded with a nod. "Part of the family, huh?" He teasing tone was marred by the slightest shine of tears in her eyes.

Sam ruffled her hair affectionately. "I always wanted a little sister."

"I bet your dad's gonna love that."

"I wonder how he's doing."

Dean shook his head, wearing the same concerned expression. "I'd feel a lot better if we were there backin' him up."

"I'd feel a lot better if he were here backin' us up."

The trio fell into silence, continuing their surveillance of the house. A little more than thirty minutes later, Sam broke the quiet again. "This is weird."

"What?"

"After all these years, we're finally here. It doesn't seem real."

Dean glanced in the rearview mirror, checking that Charlie was still wrapped up in the tome she'd been studying. "We just got to keep our heads and do our jobs like always."

"Yeah, but this isn't like always."

"True."

"Dean, uh..." Hearing something in his brother's voice, Dean turned to face and examine him. "I wanna thank you."

"For what?"

"For everything. You've always had my back, you know? Even when I couldn't count on anyone, I could always count on you. And now... I don't know, I just wanted to let you know - just in case."

"Woah, woah, woah," Dean exploded, "are you kidding me?"

"What?"

"Don't say 'Just in case something happens to you,' I don't wanna hear that freakin' speech, man. Nobody's dying tonight. Not us, not that family, nobody - except that demon. That evil son of a bitch ain't gettin' any older than tonight, you understand me?"

* * *

Another hour later, Dean was listening to his father's voicemail. "Dad's not answering," he announced as he hung up.

"Maybe Meg was late," Sam offered. "Maybe cell reception's bad."

"Maybe his phone exploded," Charlie chimed in. The brothers gave her a strange look. "What? It only happened the once."

"Yeah, well..." Dean trailed off, and whatever he was considering saying was cut off by the car radio turning to static.

"Dean, wait. Listen." Sam tried to change the station, but the noise stayed the same, as though they'd lost all reception. Charlie fought against the anxiety rising within her, and Sam pointed out the lights in Monica's house as they began to flicker rapidly. "It's coming."

The two men got out of the car quickly, and Dean spared a moment to turn to Charlie. "Stay here."

She watched helplessly at the brothers ran up to the front door and inside, Dean picking the lock impossibly fast. A minute later, he reappeared carrying the bulk of an unconscious man. He dumped him surprisingly carefully on the ground and headed back inside. Charlie immediately darted to the man's side.

He was already stirring by the time she reached his side. Leaning over him, she checked his breathing, which was beginning to grow labored and irregular. "Sir?" she murmured, a hand on his chest. "Sir, you're all right. We're here to help -"

Her reassurances were cut off by a heavy, invisible force settling on her back, pushing her several inches closer to the stranger at the same time gunshots sounded from the house. He apparently recognized the muffled sound, snapping awake and striking out at the figure above him. That is, at Charlie. She caught his fists first on her mouth and then her temple, dazing her just enough that he was able to shove her away and climb to his feet. Charlie followed him quickly, latching onto his arm and digging in, stopping his flight back inside the house at the unmistakable sight of fire coming from the upstairs window.

"Let me go!" he roared, doing everything in his power to shake her off, but Charlie had grown up with a handful of brothers and their friends and knew how to hang on. In fact, it took the window exploding outward, showering them with glass and debris, for her grip to loosen enough for him to pull free.

The sight of his wife running out the front door protectively covered by Sam stopped him from running back into the burning building. He charged forward, intending to do some damage to the men threatening his family, painfully aware that the man who hit him had followed them out carrying a bundle of cloth so carefully that it had to be his precious Rosie girl. "Charlie, don't!" his wife's voice rang out, stopping him in his tracks. He was vaguely aware that the pest of a girl behind him had also frozen. "They saved us."

Monica turned and took her daughter from the stranger's arms, repeating softly. "They saved us." She met her husband halfway, closing her eyes as his arms wrapped around her and he kissed her forehead, then she turned to look at the two men. "Thank you."

The one who burst into Rosie's nursery nodded in acknowledgement, then turned to look at the window. The other glared at the girl next to them, noting her split and swelling lower lip. "I told you to stay in the car!"

"I did for a minute," she began, but her guilty excuses were cut off by Monica's savior muttering. "It's still in there."

He started toward the burning house, but the shorter man stopped him. "Sam, no." When the first continued to struggle, their female friend join in restraining him, wrestling for several moments.

"Dean, let me go! It's still in there!"

"Burning to the ground - it's suicide!"

"I don't care!"

"I do!" With a final shove from the shorter man - Dean - they separated and turned to look at the window again, the girl still clinging to the taller one's arm. Monica followed their gaze to the sight of a dark, shadow-like figure standing among the flames. It stared back at them for a second longer, then disappeared into nothing.

* * *

Back at the motel, Dean paced back and forth with his phone glued to his ear, while Sam sat tense on the bed holding a cold cloth to the bruise forming on Charlie's temple. "Come on, Dad. Answer your phone, damn it!" Dean hung up, spinning to face the other two. "Something's wrong. You hear me? Something's happened."

"If you had just let me go in there, I could have ended this."

Through the slight haze of a growing headache, Charlie sat quietly and listened as the argument intensified, Sam raging about the evil that had taken so much from them while Dean argued against the idea of adding their names to the list. Finally Dean broke. "Sammy, look... the three of us - that's all we have. And that's all I have. Sometimes I feel like I'm barely holdin' it together man. Without you and Dad..."

Sam stepped back, turning away from both Dean and Charlie. "Dad... He should have called by now. Try him again."

Dean obeyed, listening to the ringing until a click loosened the clench in his gut. But it wasn't their father's voice that answered.

"_You boys really screwed up this time._"

Meg.

* * *

Destiny's Darkness  
12-03-2010


End file.
